Come With Me
by Flagg1991
Summary: Sequel to "Sleep With Me." Three years after their parents break them up, Lincoln and Luan run away, taking the van and 5000 dollars from their parents, who hire an unhinged private investigator to track them down. Cover by Lentex.
1. Leaving in the Night

_**So much for the golden future I can't even start  
I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart  
You don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue  
If you did you'd find yourselves doing the same thing too**_

 _ **\- Judas Priest**_

 _ **The hottest love has the coldest end**_

 _ **\- Socrates**_

Lincoln Loud sat by his bedroom window, the lights off, and stared up at the full, gibbous moon, its white, skeletal face wrapped in thin clouds like rotted cemetery shrouds. The night sky glowed faintly with its light, and he could see as though it were daylight: A possum slunk along the base of the wooden fence separating his yard from the neighbor's, stopping to sniff the air, its furry rump wiggling in what may have been excitement...or fear. Lincoln couldn't tell, nor did he care.

It was almost midnight on June 5, a day he had been looking forward to for over a month, the anticipation rising within him as it approached like steam might rise in a boiler. He was nervous, restless...and excited. Three years. It had been three years since his parents broke him and Luan up, and finally, tonight, they would be together again.

He'd waited so long, passing so many heartbroken nights in this very room. He couldn't count the times he'd cried himself to sleep, or the times his rage kept him awake deep into the small hours of the morning, his teeth clenched and his chest throbbing with fury. There was a time when his room was his sanctuary, his oasis. Over the past three years, however, it had become a cell and he the prisoner. He would pace back and forth, his anger rising with each pass until he was shaking and couldn't control himself: He smashed his video game console six months ago and shoved the shattered remains under his bed along with all the other things he'd broken. A small part of him missed it, a larger part didn't. There were holes in the walls, some of them covered with posters and others with drywall patch, white spots on a yellow background, his dresser was dented from where he'd punched it repeatedly, breaking his hand at one point.

Lincoln passed much of his time in this dismal space, free to leave and mingle with the others but not wanting to: Seeing them happy and enjoying their lives pissed him off and made him hate them, and he didn't want to hate his sisters. It wasn't their fault. Truth be told, he missed them; it had been so long since he was able to enjoy being with them. He tried to, even as recently as this weekend, and while they always accepted him with open arms, every time he made the attempt, he came away angry. And God forbid he should see or deal with his mother or father. He didn't hate his sisters, but he _did_ hate his parents, he hated them with every fiber of his being. Not his father as much as his mother, though neither was blameless.

It was this deep abiding hatred – almost as much as his longing for his sister – that inspired him to text Luan that night in late April, the first time he had done so since their parents broke them up, and the first time he had interacted with her at all in three months. _We should run away._

 _We can't do that. What will we do?_

 _I don't know and I don't care. As long as I have you._

She said no, but she started to think. The last three years had been just as hard on her as it had on him. She ached for him, pined for him, missing him so badly that she sometimes cut herself to dull the pain, because pain of the flesh is bliss compared to pain of the spirit. She, too, came to hate their parents, and her siblings' joy was her sorrow. She dreamed of him every night, and when she woke to find that their cuddling or their lovemaking had been but a fantasy, she would either break down and cry or get so angry she would have to bite her lip against a scream. Sometimes her mother would point out a boy on the street or in the neighborhood and make a comment about him being cute, the implication being that she, Luan, should date him, but Luan didn't _want_ to date him, and whenever her mother would brush the topic, Luan's teeth would clench and her fists would ball. She did it on purpose, Luan figured; taunting her, mocking her. _Go after him, honey, because you can't have Lincoln._

When Lynn came out as gay, mom hugged her. _Oh, sweetie, that doesn't matter blah blah blah love and support blah blah blah love is blind._ She actually had the gall to fucking say that. Love is blind. Luan laughed harshly, and mom glared at her. Luan shut her mouth, but had to leave the room because it was _that_ funny. Only it really wasn't. It was sad, and it depressed Luan so much that she had to cut just to make it through the night. Love is blind, huh, mom? That's not what you said when you found out about me and Lincoln.

It was remembering that comment, _love is blind_ , that decided her – almost as much as wanting to be with Lincoln. She texted him two days after he texted her. _I've changed my mind. I love you and I want to be with you any way I can. Let's go._

She'd been working at a pizzeria for almost two years (anything to get her out of that fucking house for a while each afternoon), and she had some money saved up. Starting in May, she saved every single penny, cashing her checks and sticking the results into a jar under her bed. By June, she had five hundred dollars. It wasn't much, but it was something.

 _We can take the money in the safe,_ Lincoln texted one night.

Their parents kept money and other valuables in a safe in their bedroom closet. One day, Lincoln told her, he figured out the combination.

Luan grinned at the idea. _We can take the van, too_. She'd just gotten her license in April.

 _LOL. I love you._

The thought of her parents waking to find them gone – along with the money and the van – sustained Luan through the long weeks between the decision and the night of action. Well, that and the thought of finally, after so long, being in Lincoln's arms again.

Presently, she was lying in her bed and staring up at a beam of moonlight creeping across the ceiling. In the bed across the room, Luna snored lightly. It was after midnight, and the Loud house had been silent for nearly two hours: It was a school night, and everyone was in bed by eleven. She knew her parents well enough to know that they were fast asleep, and would not wake when Lincoln slipped into the room...unless he fucked up and made too much noise, which she didn't think he would.

She checked her phone. No texts from Lincoln. He'd probably want to wait a little longer, but Luan didn't know if _she_ could wait. She'd been damp all day thinking of the sex they would have. It had been so _long_ that in her mind their sex had taken on a mythical quality; she could barely remember what it felt like, and that made her angry.

Her plan was to jump him in the van as soon as they were far enough away from town to stop for a while, but why not do it now? If their parents woke up, well...what could they do? Ground them?

With a tight chest, she got up and crept into the hall, pausing to listen and hearing only nocturnal silence.

She went to Lincoln's door and eased it open. He was sitting at his window, his face bathed in the light of the moon. He spun when he heard her, and smiled. In the past three years, he had grown into a man, his features hardening and his legs lengthening. He was taller than she was now.

"Hey, Linc," she said seductively, closing the door behind her. Her heart was pounding.

"Hey, yourself," he said, getting up and coming to her.

"I figured we could wait together," she said.

"I _could_ use some company," he said, snaking his arms around her hips. He stared into her eyes, and her heart sputtered. She could feel his bulge against the crotch of her thin nightgown. She wore nothing beneath. Her face flushed. Being in his arms felt like coming home.

She giggled. "I've missed you."

"I've missed _you_."

She leaned forward, tilting her head, and they kissed, their lips brushing and their tongues meeting with an electric spark. Luan's heart froze in her chest as he prodded her mouth, first hesitantly, the way a man might approach something he hasn't done in many years, then hungrily. His hands crept down the small of her back and clutched her behind, making her gasp into his mouth.

Somehow they wound up on the bed, Lincoln on top of her, his hands in her hair and his hips thrusting mindlessly; her dress had ridden up, and his denim clad erection rubbed between her swollen lips, sending tendrils of fire into her brain. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, grunting animalistically as he did so. She felt his head against her, then suddenly he was thrusting in, parting her lips and filling her. She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming and wrapped her legs around his hips. He strained against her walls, and her muscles clamped around him, pulling him deeper, deeper, until he bottomed out. He pulled back slightly, then rammed forward again.

"God, yes," Luan moaned, moving her hips up to meet him, her brain a burning mass of desire. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

She ranked her nails down his back, his muscles flexing under her hands, and he cupped her breast, squeezing a yelp from her throat. She'd wanted this for so, so long, She'd thought of it, _dreamed_ of it, and now that it was finally happening she was so happy tears streamed down her face. Lincoln pressed his cheek against hers and took her earlobe between his teeth. She shuddered and giggled.

"Get off," she said, "I wanna be on top."

He rammed into her one more time then pulled out and laid back. She climbed onto his lap and laid her hands on his chest. Her grabbed her hips and she sank onto him, taking just his head before lifting up, her head cocked and a mischievous grin on her face. "You want it?"

"Yes, I do," Lincoln said. A strand of hair had come free from her ponytail and lay across her face. She smiled widely, her eyes glowing with lust. Lower, her erect nipples poked through the fabric of her dress, making little tents. She was so fucking beautiful Lincoln could barely contain himself.

"You sure?" She lowered herself just enough so that he parted her curtains.

"Totally sure," he said.

"Alright." With that, she impaled herself on him, letting out a shuddery _ahhhhh_ as he pushed past her lips and slid into her. She swiveled her hips, the way he rubbed against her insides sending her into the stratosphere. She threw her head back and ground against him, his pubic mound grazing her clit.

He felt so big in her, so right. She lifted up, and slammed back down. Again. Again. Lincoln groaned.

"You gonna cum in me?" she asked teasingly.

"Yes," he said.

"You gonna fill me up?"

"Yes."

"Make me your slut?"

"Yes!"

She was close: Her body was hot and shaky, her mind trembling. She lifted until he was almost out, then came back down slowly. He swelled in her, and she bowed her head as her orgasm rushed up in her. When he came, shooting hot ribbons of his perfect, beautiful seed against her womb, she lost control, her body jerking and her eyes fluttering. She collapsed forward, and Lincoln held her as she rode out the rest of her orgasm.

When she looked up at him, she was crying. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too," he said, and kissed her forehead. He stroked her hair and pressed her head against his chest. He was starting to cry as well. " _So_ much."

"I hate her," Luan said savagely.

"So do I."

She looked up at him again. "Let's go. I don't wanna stay here another fucking _minute_."

He smiled and touched her face. "You read my mind."

* * *

Luan stood in the hall outside their parents' bedroom, waiting for Lincoln. The door was slightly ajar, and through the crack, she could see only darkness. When Lincoln's face appeared, she jumped.

"Here," he said, handing her the van keys. "I'll be right out."

"Okay," she said. Leaning forward, they kissed. "Hurry up."

"Right."

While she carried their bags downstairs (one for each, only the essentials), Lincoln crept to his parents' closet door, turned the knob, and eased it open, wincing when one of the hinges creaked. He paused, listened, then knelt down. The safe was behind a suitcase. Lincoln moved it, entered the combination, and opened the door. He reached in and pulled out an envelope. He opened it, saw a fan of hundred dollar bills, and stuffed it into the shopping bag he'd brought. He reached in again, and took out another envelope, this one marked LUNA'S COLLEGE FUND. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, and, feeling a brief rush of guilt, shoved the envelope into the bag.

The final time he reached in, his fingers brushed something near the back. He grabbed it, and pulled out a revolver: It was black with a dark brown grip. He didn't know his parents owned a gun.

Owned, past tense, he thought with a grin as he dropped it into the bag. He took a box of bullets next.

Done, he went to the door and looked one final time at the sleeping forms beneath the blankets.

Downstairs, he went outside, leaving the door open behind his as a sign of contempt. Luan was sitting behind the wheel of the van, and when she saw him, she grinned. "What'cha got?" she asked as he climbed in.

"Lots of goodies," he replied. "Money and this." He took out the gun and held it up. Luan's eyes widened.

"What do you need _that_ for?"

Lincoln shrugged. "Self-defense?"

She chuckled. "Don't worry about that, Linc, _I'll_ protect you."

"I know," he said, and leaned in for a quick kiss. "And I'll protect _you_."

She started the ignition and backed into the street, the spill of a lamp casting her face in an evil glow. "You ready for this?"

"I am," he said and took her hand.

"Me too. Fuck this place."

As they drove off, heading west, Lincoln flipped off the house at 1216 Franklin Avenue. It was not his home anymore, and never had been.

 _Luan_ was his home.


	2. A Shocking Discovery

Rita Loud came slowly awake in a spill of early morning sunshine, the sound of her kids (or some of them) talking outside her door worming its way into her head and prying her eyes open. Why were they being so loud? It was Saturday, and they knew that she and Lynn liked to sleep in. Usually they were quiet as mice...such respectful and considerate children. Today, however, it sounded like they were actually _in_ the room.

She rolled away from Lynn Sr., who slept on, oblivious, and looked at the door.

It was standing open.

That was strange. She knew for a fact that she closed it before getting into bed, the way she did every night. You never knew when the mood would strike and you'd want to mount your husband, after all. Lynn _could_ have gotten up in the night and, half asleep, left it open. She searched her mind and could not find an instance of that happening in the past, but there's a first time for everything.

She glanced at the closet door, which also stood open, and that's when she realized something was wrong. Sitting up, she saw the safe door hanging open as well, the suitcase they used to hide it pushed aside, and her heart dropped.

"Lynn," she said sharply, shaking her husband. "Lynn, wake up!"

He muttered and stirred. Goddamn it, wake up! She slapped his arm. "Lynn!"

"What?" he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

"I-I think someone robbed us."

"What?" he asked again, sitting up.

"Look," she said, pointing at the closet. Lynn craned his neck, and his eyes widened.

"Shit."

He got out of bed and went over to the closet door, where he dropped to his knees. Rita got up, threw a pink robe over her nightie, and walked up behind her husband just as he reached into the safe's metal guts. "Son of a _bitch!"_ he hissed.

"What?" Rita asked, horror rising inside of her. She already knew what he was going to say before he sat back and threw up his hands. "It's gone! All gone! The money, the gun...everything!"

Rita put her hand to her head. This was bad. _Very_ bad. They had 5000 dollars in that safe, some of it for Luna's college, some of it for emergencies. 5000 dollars! That was a lot of money!

Lynn shook his head, his jaw set and his eyes flashing.

"Oh," Lynn Jr. said, leaning into the room, her brow crinkled, "you both _are_ here."

"Why wouldn't we be?" Rita asked, suspicious.

"The van's not in the driveway."

" _What?"_

Lynn suddenly looked frightened. "Y-Yeah, it's gone."

"God _damn_ it," Lynn Sr. said, jumping to his feet. He bounded down the stairs, Rita right behind him, her holding her robe closed at the throat.

The front door was standing open. Lynn hit the bottom of the stairs and shot outside, pausing on the porch, his hands lifting and falling in a display of impotent rage. "They took the fucking van too!" he growled.

Rita stood next to him and looked at the empty driveway, his stomach rolling. Sometime in the night, someone had come into their house and robbed them; she imagined an intruder moving around her home (her home!) as she and her family slept, unware, and shivered.

They could have been murdered.

She felt faint.

"What _else_ did they take?" Lynn asked angrily as he spun and brushed past her. The kids were gathered at the bottom of the stairs, all of them looking nervous. Lynn looked them over, his anger tinged with gratitude. None of them had been hurt, at least. None...

He noticed something, and his heart clenched. "Where's Lincoln and Luan?" he asked.

"I don't know," Luna said, "Luan wasn't in bed this morning when I got up. I thought she was down here."

"Jesus," Lynn muttered, his stomach dropping. He pushed past his kids and shot up the stairs. Lincoln's door stood open, and he went in, his heart pounding. "Lincoln?"

The bed was empty, the sheets rumpled. Starting to really panic, Lynn dropped to his knees and looked under the bed; his son was not there, though a lot of smashed-up junk was.

"Lincoln!" He grabbed ahold of the bed for support and started to stand, but his fingers brushed something. Still kneeling, he grabbed it and held it up: A thin white nightdress. Like the kind Luan wore.

"Are they here?" Rita asked from behind him, terror in her voice.

"No," Lynn said over his shoulder, "but this was on Lincoln's bed." He tossed her the nightdress, and she held it up, looking confused.

Lynn stood and glanced down at the bed, not knowing what he was looking for until his eyes happened upon it. A damp spot.

"What does this mean?" Rita asked.

Lynn put his hands on his hips and sucked in his bottom lip, fury welling up from his stomach like lava. "They did this."

"What?" Rita asked.

"Lincoln and Luan. They ran off together."

Rita blinked, her husband's words like a brisk slap. She opened her mouth to argue, but she knew deep in her heart that he was right. She'd seen it in their eyes over the past few weeks, a mocking light that she didn't recognize then, but did now. They were both still unhappy that she and Lynn made them break up, and at some point, they must have decided to elope.

She leaned against the doorframe, her knees trembling and her chest tight. They were gone. Her two babies...

"I should have known something like this was going to happen," Lynn said. He turned to Rita. "I should have fucking _known_!" he shook his head and sighed through his teeth.

"We-We have to – " Rita didn't _know_ what they had to do. Call the police? Lincoln and Luan were out there somewhere, one seventeen and the other fourteen, alone in the world, confused and...

"We should have just let them fucking do what they wanted," Lynn raged, pacing. "They've both been miserable for three goddamn years."

"Lynn..."

"They barely come out of their rooms! They won't even _look_ at us! They're strangers to their sisters!"

The remaining Loud girls had gathered in the hall. As soon as Lynn realized that Lincoln and Luan were gone, she knew what they had done, and why. She thought back to that day long ago when she saw them share a kiss, and then to the mysterious argument Luan had with their mother a couple days later. Lynn always suspected that something had happened between Lincoln and Luan, but now she knew for sure. What other reason would they run away together?

"What should we have done, Lynn?" Rita snapped. "Let them have sex!"

All of the girls save for Lynn flinched. "What?" Lucy muttered.

Instead of replying, Lynn Sr. shook his head again. "Well, now they're gone, and we have _that_ to deal with. Perfect. Just perfect." In a rare show of anger, he lashed out and kicked Lincoln's nightstand, knocking the alarm clock onto the floor.

"We just call the police..."

"I don't want the police involved in this," Lynn said. "The last thing they need is a criminal record and a stay in jail."

"But, Lynn..."

 _"No_ cops."

"Then what are we going to do? Hitchhike after them? Guess where they went?"

Lynn sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "I don't know," he said, his anger suddenly leaving him and cold, restless fear replacing it. "I don't. Right now just...leave me alone. I need to think."

Rita shook her head and went into the hall, where her kids were standing wide-eyed, Lola in her pretty pink dress, Lana in her overalls, Lisa in her sweater...they had grown so much over the past three years, but like the saying went, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

"Go downstairs," Rita said. "We need to have a talk."

She looked over her shoulder. Lynn was sitting on the edge of Lincoln's bed, his head in his hands. Her heart ached for him. It ached for Lincoln and Luan too. Many times over the past years she'd wondered if they'd done the right thing about their...situation. She knew they weren't happy, and it upset her, but what could she have done? Not only were they brother and sister, they were also kids! Knowing that their attraction was strong enough to have led to sex, she couldn't just let them sleep in the same bed every night and play house.

"Are you going to tell them?" Lynn asked. He was looking up at her, his hands together before him as if in prayer, the tips of his index fingers touching his nose. Rita was struck by how much he seemed to have aged over the past...what, twenty minutes? Fifteen?

"Yes," Rita sighed.

Lynn nodded. "We owe it to them."

He wanted to tell them sooner so they understood what Lincoln and Luan were going through, why they had become so distant and withdrawn. Rita shot him down. 'If Lincoln and Luan want them to know, they'll tell them.' Lynn saw her point; something like that _might_ not be the kind of thing you took it upon yourself to tell everyone else. On the other hand, he saw Lincoln and Luan pulling away, and he saw the hurt and confusion in the others' eyes. There was a time, and not that long ago, when his children were as close as siblings could humanly be. Now, his two oldest daughters were gone (both due back home for summer break...tomorrow, actually), his third oldest was preparing to head off to college in September, and Luan and Lincoln were so consumed with their own misery that they weren't even part of the equation anymore.

And now they were completely gone, _poof,_ just like that, fled in the night to be together. He was no happier than Rita about their relationship. He did, however, hate to see them suffer, and he'd broached the subject with her many times over the past few years. Surely they could allow them _something_. Keeping them apart was not going to make them stop loving each other, it would only make their love stronger. He couldn't really blame Rita for not backing down, though. Hell, how do you handle something like _that?_ He didn't know, she didn't know. No one did. No one expects to be faced with this sort of thing, so they never prepare for it. He imagined they might catch one or more of their children playing doctor, but falling in love? A love whose absence ached even _three years later?_

Rita was just as lost as he. She held out hope that they would get over it, and so did he, but he didn't think they would. Not after all this time.

 _God, we blew it,_ he thought. Shame and heartache filled him. He couldn't even be mad about them leaving, could hardly be mad that they took the van and the money. It was his and Rita's fault. They brought this on themselves.

In the living room, the seven remaining Loud kids settled onto the couch while their mother sank onto the coffee table across from them with a sigh. Her face was pale and doughy, and her eyes were sunken. The shock of what had happened aged her just as it aged her husband, adding a decade in minutes.

"Where's Lincoln and Luan?" Lana asked.

"Didn't you hear?" Lola spat. "They ran away!"

"Why?" Lucy asked.

"It doesn't make sense," Luna said.

Lynn said nothing, nor did Lisa. Lilly quietly played with a doll, seemingly unaffected by the proceedings around her.

"They _did_ run away," Rita said. She opened her mouth to continue, but words escaped her. How could she break it to them that Lincoln and Luan were in love?

"Lincoln and Luan," she started and paused. "They're...they think they're in love with each other."

Shocked silence filled the room. Lola's brow furrowed and Lana gaped. "I suspected as much," Lisa said calmly, "given the way they've been acting recently."

Lynn started to say she already knew, but stopped. It was probably best not to. Mom might get mad.

"Forbidden love," Lucy said, tasting the concept like sweet wine, "nice."

"No," Rita said, "it's _not_ nice. They're confused. You don't fall in love with your brother or sister."

"Well, they did," Luna said, crossing her arms.

"No, they..."

"There would have to be a deeper emotional component than simple hormone driven infatuation," Lisa pointed out. "One does not sink into despair for three years over a crush. Or confusion."

"They –" Rita started, but Luna cut her off.

"That's what that argument was about, wasn't it? That night you were screaming and yelling?" The girl watched her with intense eyes, her jaw set.

"Yes, I –"

"Forced them to break up, leaving unresolved emotional issues that manifested in the form of depression and withdraw," Lisa finished. She too crossed her arms.

Rita was starting to get angry. "They are brother and sister. What they did was not right. It was disgusting."

"And making them break up wasn't?" Luna demanded. "I've been sleeping in the same room with Luan for the past three years, I know how many times she cried herself to sleep. I never got it. I tried to talk to her but she kept turning me away. Now I know."

"How _dare_ you..." Rita started.

"I don't think it was right either," Lucy said. "If they were that serious."

" _They're brother and sister!"_ Rita roared, standing. _"It's not right!"_

"Some people say being gay isn't right," Lana said. "But you're okay with Lynn being gay."

Lynn sank into the couch, wishing she could disappear.

"That's different," Rita said tightly.

"I remember your exact words," Lola said. "'Love is blind.'"

" _GO TO YOUR ROOMS, ALL OF YOU!"_ Rita screamed, pointing up the stairs. _"NOW!"_

One-by-one, her kids stood and left the living room, each one (save Lynn and Lilly) giving her dirty looks. She was trembling with rage; when Luna passed with a tiny _pfft_ , she almost grabbed her by her hair and slapped her across the face.

When they were gone, she sank heavily onto the couch and put her face in her hands, hot tears welling in her eyes. She felt like shit enough without them adding to it. She was wrong, okay? She should have done something different. If she did, Lincoln and Luan would still be here, and the last three years of their lives wouldn't have been so miserable.

She saw them in her mind the way they'd appeared last, their eyes dark and their mouths tight, and she broke down, weeping bitterly, her body shaking. She didn't know Lynn had entered the room until he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close.

"It's my fault," she sobbed. "I was too hard on them."

"Shhhh. It's not your fault. You did what you thought was right."

"But it wasn't!"

"Maybe not, maybe so. It doesn't matter now. What matters is finding our kids and bringing them home."

Rita wiped her eyes. "If they want to be together so bad, I won't stop them, Lynn, I promise. I swear to God I won't."

He hugged her.

"What are we going to do?"

"I have an idea," he said. Pulling out his phone, he went to a website. "There's a private investigator here in town."

"I still say we should call the police," Rita said. "It'll be easier that way."

"You know the court system, Rita. They'll get ahold of this case and prosecute it whether we want them to or not."

Rita sighed.

"And I don't want that."

"Neither do I."

"I'm going to call this guy. He comes highly reviewed."

Rita looked down at the phone again. The background was yellow with white text. Across the top was the legend WAYNE DIROSARIO, PRIVATE EYE next to a little eye shaped logo.

"Do it," she said miserably. "I just want them back."

* * *

"So, where are we going?"

Lincoln was sitting in the passenger seat, his legs crossed. Outside, dawn colored the eastern sky, a fiery red slash across inky black.

They'd been heading west on I-94 for nearly three hours, one of the only vehicles on the highway aside from tractor trailers and the occasional RV. For long stretches, they held hands across the center console, neither speaking, both simply enjoying the presence of the other, a presence that each had sorely missed. Every once in a while, they would glance at each other and smile. At one point, Lincoln drew Luan's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

He ran his tongue over her knuckles. "You taste better than I remember."

She laughed. "Wait until we stop. I'm gonna fuck your brains out."

Presently, they were skirting the dense suburban growth between Battle Creek and Kalamazoo, closer to the latter than the former. More cars moved along this length of highway. Lincoln checked the clock on the dash: It was almost 6am, when most people would be starting for work.

"Any place in particular you want to go, love?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Other than down on you?" he asked with a grin. "Not really."

She giggled. "You're so _dirty_. When did _that_ happen?"

She meant it as a joke, but it wasn't: She'd spent so little time around her brother over the past three years that he was basically a stranger. Well, maybe not a stranger, exactly, but he'd changed, grown, and she missed it. Lincoln probably felt the same about her. That made her sad, a sadness that turned to anger when she thought of her mother.

Lincoln shrugged. "I dunno. I guess you just bring it out in me."

She glanced at him and flashed a seductive smile. "I'll bring _something_ out of you alright."

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyebrows raising.

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Um hm. With my mouth."

"Oh, yeah."

"And my pussy."

Lincoln winced. "Damn."

"And maybe even my ass!"

Lincoln's shocked laughter quickly devolved into a coughing fit. She grinned.

"Don't make promises you can't keep now," he said when he'd recovered.

"Oh, I'm serious. We haven't done _that_ yet."

"Look at you," Lincoln said with a smile, "you're kinky as hell. What else are you into?"

"Hmmm." Luan cocked her head and thought as she zoomed past a silver minivan with a roof rack. She thought of all the fantasies she'd had over the past three years, the images of her and Lincoln that came when her despair momentarily turned to desire. "Well, I haven't actually _done_ anything other than with you, but I'm open to it all."

In her fantasies, Lincoln choked her, hit her, and smacked her ass until it was raw. The pain, she imagined, would make the pain in her heart go away, and that was the most appealing thing of all. Now that she had him all to herself, she wanted to actually try them. All of them. Pain in her heart or no.

"What about you?" she asked. "What kind of things do you want to do to me?"

"I wanna tie you up," he blurted, and blushed.

"Oh?" she asked, glancing at him.

He nodded.

The thought of her being immobile and him being in complete control made him weak in the knees. It was a fantasy he had cultivated and nurtured over the past three years.

"What if I want to tie _you_ up?" Luan asked. She was being serious. She had also fantasized about dominating her brother, about being in charge and calling the shots. God knows she couldn't do it in real life. Rita the cunt proved that.

Lincoln considered. Having her dominate him _did_ sound kind of hot. "We can't _both_ be tied up."

"We can take turns."

Lincoln shrugged. "Yeah, that works."

For a while neither of them spoke, then he realized that she hadn't answered his question. "Where are we going?"

"Oh. Right. Well, remember that time we went to Disneyland when you were eight?"

"I do," Lincoln said fondly. When he was eight, mom and dad packed the family into the van and took them to California for a week of fun at Disneyland. The trip was mainly covered by one of dad's work bonuses; otherwise they wouldn't have had enough money. Lincoln recalled every moment of those seven glorious days. The sun. The sky. The heat. He remembered the leg of the trek that brought them through the Mojave Desert, a vast, arid expanse sloping away to craggy mountains rising like frozen waves against the dusty sky. He also remembered the palm trees and terra cotta roofs so prevalent in Anaheim.

"California's beautiful, right?"

"Yeah, yeah it is."

"Why not go there?"

"Sounds good to me."

She smiled at him. "Great. Sun, surf, and sand."

"You in a bikini."

"You naked."

"You bent over."

"You fucking me in the ass."

Lincoln snickered.

"I'm dead serious, I wanna try anal."

"Totally, but how about we try breakfast first? I'm starving."

"Let's get out of Michigan," Luan said. "Then we can eat."

"Yeah, I'm hungry now."

"You just have to wait."

During the journey toward the Indiana state line, Lincoln counted the money from the safe. 5000 dollars. Added to what Luan had, it was 5500. Add what he had, it was 5800. That was a _lot_ of money.

 _Things are looking up, Lincoln Loud,_ he thought.

And they were.

For the moment.


	3. Life Goes On

Luna Loud was furious.

Sitting up in bed, her arms and legs crossed, she glared into space, her anger like a ball of gnashing teeth in her chest. She glanced at Luan's bed and thought of all the times her sister had laid there on her side, staring at the wall and sighing heavily, and her rage intensified. Luan was _so_ miserable for _so_ long, Lincoln too, and it was because their parents broke them up? Sure, she thought siblings kissing and fucking was kind of gross, but to be honest, she thought eating another woman's pussy was pretty gross; that didn't mean she felt any differently about Lynn. Hey, if that's what you're into, go for it.

Man. All that time. All that pain.

Everyone knew they were suffering. It became commonplace, something that no one talked about because there was nothing that could be done about it; neither Lincoln nor Luan wanted to open up. For the longest time she didn't understand, but now she did. They were probably afraid their sisters would be bitches like their mother.

And their father. He wasn't innocent either.

All that time...and it was something as simple as letting them be together. How could their mother watch them suffer like that for _three fucking years_ and know all the time that she could cure it with a couple words and a nod? Luna couldn't blame her mother for not liking the relationship and _maybe_ for trying to break it up in the beginning, hoping they'd get over it, but when it became apparent that they _weren't_ getting over it, she should have stepped off. Luna would have. Jesus, three years of constant depression. Three years of crying. Three years of aching to be with the one you loved, but not being able to...only to have to face them every time you went to eat your dinner, or to get in the car, or even walked out of your fucking bedroom. No wonder Lincoln and Luan spent so much time in bed: It probably killed them to cross each other's paths.

That would explain why they rarely even looked at each other.

She didn't blame them for leaving. In fact, she was happy for them. They were together and probably smiling ear-to-ear.

What she wouldn't give to see it; she'd forgotten what their smiles looked like.

A knock came at the door, and she turned her head. "Yeah?"

It opened, and dad peeked his head in. Luna looked away. She was mad, but she knew she couldn't stay mad at him if she looked at him, and he didn't deserve her _not_ being mad at him.

"Hey, honey," he said hesitantly.

She ignored him.

"Look," he sighed as he came over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know you're mad at me and your mother. We..." he glanced away. "We're mad at us too. I just don't want you to be too hard on your mother. She tried her best and now she's going out of her mind with worry."

"How could you guys let them suffer like that for three years?" she asked, still not looking at him.

Her words twisted like a knife in his heart, and nothing that came to mind could answer her. "I don't know," he said. "We fucked up. Pure and simple."

Luna couldn't help look at him; she'd _never_ heard him use that word. He was staring down at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. He looked miserable, and Luna's anger drained away just like she knew it would.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. "I just...you know, I sat here for three years watching Luan in pain. Every night she'd lay on her side and stare at the wall. Like she had no hope. No reason to live. And she'd cry too."

Her father nodded, sucking in his lips and fighting back tears.

"It killed me."

"I know," he whispered.

He deserved to be in pain. Still, Luna leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"We didn't what to do," he confided. "They already...had sex. It wasn't a crush or puppy love. It was...more serious. We just...what we could we do? We were lost."

"You guys could have done _something_. Let them go on dates or something, I dunno. It was so hard seeing them so depressed."

"I know. It was hard on me too. And your mother. We messed up. You're right. We could have allowed them _something_."

He sighed and patted her hand. "But things are going to be different," he promised. "When we bring them home."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Your mother told me she wouldn't keep them apart anymore. If they want to be with each other, we won't get in their way."

Luna smiled. "Good."

He looked at her and smiled wanly. "I love you, Luna. You know that, right? You guys mean everything to me and your mom."

"You guys mean everything to us, too," she said and hugged him.

"I have to make a phone call," he said, patting her leg and getting up.

Luna cocked her head. "To who?"

"A private investigator. Your mother and I don't want to call the police, so we're going to hire someone."

At the door, Luna stopped him. "Are we grounded?" Luna asked.

"No," he said over his shoulder. "Just...be easy on mom, okay?"

"I will."

"Thank you."

After he left, she laid back against her pillow and stared up at the ceiling, a mixture of emotions going through her. Fear. Anger. Sadness. God, what were Lincoln and Luan going to do out there? Where would they go? They were kids still! Lincoln wasn't even fifteen, and Luan wouldn't be eighteen for another two months. She hoped they were okay. She hoped they managed somehow, and she hoped that if dad was serious about things being "different" they would come home. She already missed them so much it ached.

* * *

Lynn Loud met Amber Paulson, the girl she had been with since she was thirteen, at the end of Amber's street. It was a warm, sunny day, and Amber was dressed in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, her dirty blonde hair hanging down to just below her ears and her clear blue eyes sparkling. When she saw Lynn, a smile touched her pouty lips, and for a brief moment, Lynn was able to forget the events of that morning.

"Well," Amber said, putting her hands on her fleshy hips, "if it isn't Lynn Loud in the flesh. What took you so long, Lynn? Trip over your own feet and break something again?"

Six months ago, Lynn tripped on the way to school and broke her ankle. Amber tormented her about it now, but when it happened, she was almost in tears, rubbing Lynn's face and asking if she was okay, shaking and near hysteria. Lynn didn't have the heart to make fun of her for it, mainly because it touched Lynn so deeply.

"No," Lynn sighed.

"Uh-oh," Amber said, sobering. "I know that look. What's wrong?"

She wrapped her arms around Lynn's waist and looked into her eyes. They searched Lynn's soul, pooled with love and concern, and Lynn's heart swelled. "My brother and my sister ran away."

"They _what?"_

Lynn nodded.

"Which sister?"

"Luan."

Over the past three years, Amber had been to the Loud house enough to know all the siblings on a personal level. All except Lincoln and Luan. They were both always alone in their rooms when Amber came over, and for a while she thought they didn't like her and disapproved of her relationship with their sister.

"Why?" she asked.

"They – " Lynn started, but stopped. "I shouldn't say. It's private."

Amber nodded. "Alright. I respect that." She leaned in and kissed the tip of Lynn's freckled nose. "But I _don't_ respect you on the football field."

"Fuck you, bitch," Lynn laughed as she pulled away.

Amber grabbed her arm and yanked her back. "You want to? I wasn't planning on it, but if you insist..."

"Get out of here," Lynn said. "I have a headache."

"Oh, yeah?" Amber laughed. "You're such a girl."

"Am not!"

They were walking toward the park now. Full green trees lined the way, their leaves rustling in the warm pre-summer breeze.

"Are too. You're a total girl."

"Pffft. Look who's talking. You're the girl in this relationship." Lynn crossed her eyes and did her best impression of Amber. "'Look at me, I wear make-up and thongs, Dur, dur, dur.'"

Amber shoved her. "You're an asshole."

"It's true."

Amber shrugged. "Okay. Don't ask me to eat you out later. If I'm such a girl, I'll go find a dick to suck and you can find yourself a 300 pound bull dyke."

Lynn's face crinkled and Amber laughed. "You don't want a biker mama with tattoos and a wallet chain?"

"Uh, no."

"Cargo shorts? Hiking boots?"

"Don't worry about what I want, just go suck on your nasty penis."

They crossed the street and entered the park. A bunch of teenagers were throwing a Frisbee in a wide, grassy field while, closer to the street, kids climbed over playground equipment.

"You've never wondered what a dick would feel like?" Amber asked.

"No," Lynn said, though, to be honest, she had. A lot like a vibrator, she imagined. Then again, a dick wasn't plastic and cold, it was fleshy and warm. She didn't particularly like the thought of looking at one, or touching it (and putting it in her mouth – ugh), but maybe, just maybe...

"I have," Amber said. "You know, just to see what it's like."

"Well, go jump one of those Frisbee guys. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

"Probably not," Amber agreed.

From the field, they followed a path to a stand of pine trees. Most of the park was crisscrossed with bike and pedestrian trails which wound through the steep hills rolling along the park's eastern flank. Every Saturday, Lynn and Amber would hike the paths partly because Amber enjoyed nature, and partly so they could spend time together. On most Saturdays, they had lunch at the Taste-E-Freeze on Park Street afterwards, and sometimes they capped the day off by seeing a movie at the Marquee. It was a comforting ritual they had established long ago and rarely deviated from. 'A relationship needs consistency' Amber said once.

Lynn turned Amber's words over in her mind, an inexplicable twinge in her heart. She imagined her girlfriend, the girl she _loved_ , with a dick in her hand, and shuddered.

Am I not enough? Lynn found herself wondering, and her stomach twisted.

"Y-You're serious about it?" Lynn asked, speaking for the first time in five minutes. They were following a narrow path flanked by trees and dense undergrowth.

"Yeah, kind of," Amber said causally. "Something new. You know, the experience. I mean, come on, you've never thought of it? Really?"

Lynn shrugged. "Not seriously."

Amber jabbed her elbow into Lynn's ribs. "Don't be like that, Loud. You know I love you."

"I love you too," Lynn said, rubbing her bruised side.

Amber took Lynn's hand and threaded her fingers through Lynn's. When she spoke, her tone was serious. "If it bothers you, don't worry about it. But...I mean...if you want to try it..."

Lynn looked at her. "Fucking a guy?"

"Yeah."

Lynn thought about it for a minute. It actually _did_ kind of bother her to think of Amber with someone else, man _or_ woman. She started to say so, but stopped. She didn't want to look jealous: Amber once told her about an ex of hers who was insanely jealous and how she hated it, and Lynn vowed never to be like that. Still...

"If you want to..." Lynn said noncommittally.

"Well, it's up to you. I mean, it's like skydiving. I'd like to try it, but I'll die happy if I don't."

"Yeah."

They rounded a bend, and Lynn walked into someone coming down the trail in the opposite direction. Literally. She jumped a foot.

"Whoa, sorry!" Clyde McBride said. When he saw Lynn, he smiled. "Hey, Lynn! How's it going?"

"You scared the _shit_ out of me, Clyde," Lynn said angrily.

"Sorry," he said, "you kind of scared me too."

Once upon a time, Clyde was Lincoln's best friend. Then, after Lincoln and Luan got weird, they drifted apart. Clyde stopped coming over and Lincoln stopped going to Clyde's. Lynn saw him every once in a while at school. He was taller than he had been three years ago, but looked much the same: Gangly, goofy, and four-eyed.

"Yeah, well, watch where you're going."

"Sure," he said, "sorry." He nodded and brushed past them, disappearing around the bend.

"You know him?" Amber asked.

"Yeah, he's friends with Linc."

"Hm."

Lynn looked at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Amber said.

Lynn's brows furrowed, then she realized what Amber meant. "Oh, God, Clyde?"

Amber shrugged. "Why not?"

"He's...he's a dork!"

"Yeah, but wouldn't that make you feel better? If we did some guy neither of us had any chance of actually, like, being attracted to or falling in love with? That's what you're worried about, right? That some guy's going to steal me from you?"

"No!" Lynn said too quickly.

Amber grinned. "You're cute when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Lynn said with a blush. "If you wanna fuck Clyde, fuck Clyde."

"I'm not interested in Clyde," Amber said as they started walking again, "I'm interested in Clyde's dick."

Lynn scrunched her lips and tried to imagine her and Amber fucking Clyde. It wasn't a pretty sight. But it wasn't about that, right? It was about trying something new.

"Do you really want to fuck Clyde McBride?" Lynn asked.

Amber shrugged. "You wanna try dick, right?"

"Kind of," Lynn said, and that wasn't entirely a lie.

"Well, there you go."

Lynn sighed. "Alright. We'll fuck Clyde."

Amber laughed. "You know that old song? I really like it. It's called "Hey, Jealousy.""

Lynn shook her head. "You're a bitch."

"Love you too," Amber said, and pecked Lynn on the cheek.

* * *

 _You can't trust anyone_.

Leni Loud frowned in the mirror over her dresser. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was drawn. Her normally shiny hair was wan and lusterless, her skin the color of ash.

 _You can't trust anyone,_ the voice repeated in her ear. She lifted her hand as if to brush it away, but of course, there was nothing there.

Shaking her head and sighing, she unscrewed the cap and shook a small white pill into her hand. She popped it into her mouth and followed it with a drink of water, the plastic bottle crinkling in her unsteady hand. In the mirror, her roommate, Kristy Johnson, was searching through their shared closet for something to wear.

 _She's stealing your clothes._

 _No she's not. I told her to take something. She has a date._

 _Unlike you._

The voice cackled mean-spiritedly, and Leni had to bite her lower lip lest she reply to it. She knew it was in her head...but that didn't mean she didn't respond to it sometimes.

It came only when she skipped her medication, and that afternoon when she dragged herself out of bed, the voice whispering into her ear, she realized she'd skipped _two_ doses. Thank God it was just the voice and not weird thought patterns, because when it was weird thought patterns, she was a goner; when her thinking was funny, she didn't have the presence of mind to even take her meds, and her illness fed on itself until she disappeared down the rabbit-hole. That had only happened once, shortly before she left home: She missed two doses like she did now, but instead of the voice, she woke up certain that her sisters were out to get her. She barricaded her door and wouldn't come out until the police came...then they took her to the hospital. She _totes_ did not want that to happen again.

"Oooh, this is cute," Kristy said. In the mirror she held a black dress to her chest. Kirsty was tall with a slim figure, long black hair, and blue eyes. It _did_ look good on her. "Take it," Leni croaked.

Kristy tossed the dress onto her bed and came over. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Leni said.

"Awww, honey," Kristy said, squeezing Leni's shoulders, "it's his loss."

Leni nodded at her reflection. The loser in question was Dave Benson, who Leni had been seeing for close to six months. A burly football player for Chicago Tech with curly blonde hair, Dave was – or so Leni thought – the perfect guy. Funny, smart, charming. Then, the other day, she went over to the frat house to surprise him and found him sucking some skank's face on the couch.

 _You can't trust anyone._

She'd never been so heartbroken in her life, even over Lincoln (she couldn't remember much of that. She _thought_ it hurt, but she _knew_ this hurt). She was so depressed that she couldn't even get out of bed, hence why she'd missed two doses of her medication; though she took it every day, she completely and totally forgot about it.

"I know," Leni said, "that doesn't make it any easier."

"You should get out," Kristy said. "Go to a club and meet someone else. Bring him back here and fuck his brains out."

That shocked a laugh from Leni. "I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

 _You're fat, ugly, stupid, gay..._

Leni frowned. "Because I don't like clubs." That wasn't entirely a lie. She didn't. Every once in a while she would go to one, but the loud music and pushy horndogs _really_ made it unenjoyable. And if she was there too long, even full of medication, she started feeling like everyone was watching her, plotting...

"Do one of his frat brothers."

"I'm not 'doing' anyone," Leni said.

"Well, if you change your mind, I might know some guys."

"I'll think about it," Leni said, knowing she wouldn't.

After Kristy left, Leni took another drink of water and studied her reflection some more. At least she had going home tomorrow to look forward to, she couldn't _wait_ to see everyone. Though the Chicago School of Design had been Leni's dream since she was a little girl, she often found herself so homesick she'd drop out in a heartbeat if she could. She couldn't, though. She was so close to being finished. Then, after that...a career. She didn't know doing _what_ exactly. You had to start small and work your way up in the fashion industry. She'd probably get someone's coffee for three or four years before even really breaking in, but that was okay, because just being in the biz was a dream come true.

But she dreamed of going home a lot too, of being fifteen or sixteen again and being surrounded by her family. How she missed those days. Sometimes she wanted to go back to them so badly it hurt.

Time doesn't work that way, though. It move forward, always forward.

 _Your family's going to kill you._

"Shut the fuck up," Leni told her reflection and stood. "Asshole."

She was hungry. Maybe she'd eat. There was a little deli she liked near the park that had the _best_ roast beef.

 _Poisoned_.

"Just ignore it, Leni. Ignore it."

 _Acid sandwiches._

Sigh.

The joys of mental illness.


	4. Shaft

Wayne DiRosario lived in a two story bungalow on the corner of Quincy Avenue and East Street across from Royal Lake. It was a small, boxy construct with crème colored siding and a covered front porch. An American flag hung limply on a pole jutting from one of the white support beams. A forest green Jeep Grand Cherokee, late eighties or early nineties model (Lynn couldn't tell) sat in the driveway.

Lynn called DiRosario earlier. He didn't know what he was expecting (a hardboiled gumshoe? Dick Tracy?) but it most certainly was not the wispy, almost effeminate voice that greeted him. "DiRosario."

"Hi, my name's Lynn Loud, and I was wondering if I could come down today. I...I need your services."

The address on the website was for an office in downtown Royal Woods.

"I was actually just heading home for the day, but if you'd like to meet me there, that'd be fine. Say...2?"

"Okay, yeah."

Lynn copied the address DiRosario gave him and hung up. Now, at ten to two, he turned onto East Street, which flanked the eastern side of the house, and parked the rented Prius alongside a chain-link fence that separated DiRosario's yard from the street. For a moment he sat behind the wheel and studied the house, his stomach rolling with nerves. Then he got out and walked along the fence to the back, just like DiRosario told him to.

Lynn went through a gate, and found a man whom he took to be DiRosario sitting at a patio table on the back deck and smoking a cigarette. He saw Lynn and stood. He was thin to the point of emaciation, the brown, cracked leather skin of his face pulled taunt against his skull. A short-sleeved colored shirt, white and buttoned to the throat, hung from his skeletal frame. His bristly hair was a dull salt and pepper color. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

"Mr. Loud?" he asked in that soft, breathy voice.

"That's me," Lynn said coming up the walk.

"I'm Wayne DiRosario," DiRosario said, and they shook, DiRosario's thin lips pulling back from his prominent teeth and gums in what Lynn guessed was meant to be a smile. "Sit down and we can talk."

Lynn sat at the table and DiRosario sank into his own chair. A white plastic ashtray, filled to the brim with butts, a green and white pack of Kools, and a pink lighter sat on the table's surface next to a glass of iced tea and a pad of paper, a pencil lying diagonally across.

"So," DiRosario said around the filter of his cigarette, bluish smoke hanging around his head, "how can I help you?"

Lynn took a deep breath. "My son and my daughter ran away from home last night. They took some money and my van."

DiRosario took a drag and tapped ash into the ashtray. He crossed his legs and rested his chin in his hand. "Okay."

"Well...I don't want the police involved. I don't want them punished, I just want them home."

DiRosario nodded. "Understandable. You want me to find them?"

"Yes," Lynn nodded, tears threatening to well in his eyes. He wanted nothing more.

DiRosario uncrossed his legs and picked up the pencil. "Alright. I understand this is –" he trailed off, cocking his head as if listening to someone. " –difficult, but I need as much information as you can give me. About your children. Why did they run away? Was there an argument? Where do you think they might be going? That kind of thing."

Lynn sighed. He figured he'd have to tell DiRosario about Lincoln and Luan's relationship. He didn't want to, but if it helped DiRosario bring them home, he'd tell him anything. "My son Lincoln and my daughter Luan were...well, they were 'together.'"

DiRosario stared blankly. "Together?"

Lynn sighed. He explained the situation, starting with Leni's mental breakdown and ending with that morning's shocking discovery. DiRosario's face displayed no emotion, for which Lynn was grateful. He expected surprise...or disgust.

"How old?"

"Lincoln's fourteen and Luan's seventeen."

"Make and model of the vehicle? License plate number?" His voice steadily rose with each word, as though he was talking over a loud noise.

Lynn told him.

"Your son doesn't drive, right?"

"No, only Luan."

DiRosario nodded. "What kind of people are they?"

Lynn blinked. "Excuse me?"

"What kind of people are they? What do they like, what do they dislike? Tell me about them so I can get a better picture of them in my head."

Lynn thought. "Over the past couple years, they've both been sullen and depressed. Aside from that, Luan is a comedian." He smiled fondly. "She's always cracking jokes and making puns. Lincoln is...he's Lincoln. He likes drawing and video games and comic books."

"Artistic?"

"Yeah, fairly artistic."

"What are their favorite foods?"

Lynn thought. "Pizza and ice cream for both, I'd say."

"Are they...close with their other siblings? You did say you had other children, right?"

"Yes, they're very family oriented. They look out for one another and help each other. They're both very responsible and considerate."

DiRosario nodded, then glanced away, swatting as if at a fly. "Damn it," he hissed under his breath. Then: "Do you have a picture of them?"

"Yes," Lynn said. He reached into his back pocket and produced his wallet. From it he took a photo and slid it across the table. It was one of all the kids taken just last month. He circled Lincoln and Luan, noticing, for the first time, just how miserable they both looked. DiRosario looked at it for a long time.

"Where do you think they're going?"

Lynn sighed. "I don't know. We have family in Virginia, Texas, Washington State, and Vermont. They might be going there."

"I don't know," DiRosario said. He took another cigarette out of the pack and lit it, inhaling deeply. He held it daintily between his fore-and-middle fingers, his wrists crossed. "With what you told me, I think they might be trying to avoid family. Is there anywhere else? Somewhere one of them talked about a lot?"

Lynn started to say no, but something occurred to him. "Well, when the kids were younger we went to Disneyland and Luan absolutely _loved_ California. She always said she wanted to live there."

DiRosario grinned, and Lynn couldn't help but stare at his big teeth and gray gums. "Mr. Loud, I can almost guarantee –" he stopped and looked behind him, then back to Lynn. "I can almost guarantee that's where they're going."

"Do you really think so?" Lynn asked hopefully.

"I do," DiRosario said, leaning back and crossing his legs, looking like a man relaxing after a hard day. "Think about it. California represents the American Dream. Plus, it's warm and romantic, the perfect place for a couple of young lovebirds." He glanced over his shoulder again. "You said they were armed and dangerous?"

Lynn gaped. "No, no! They have the gun, but I think they took it...out of spite. Or for protection. Lincoln's always been very protective of his sisters."

"Oh," DiRosario said. "Okay. I don't have any other cases right now, so I can get started immediately. Supposing they have a 12 hour head start, I can probably catch up with them before they reach California. What exactly do you want me to do when I find them?"

Lynn sighed. "Just watch them. My wife and I will fly out and try to reason with them."

DiRosario nodded. "Alright. There's the matter of pay..."

"Anything."

DiRosario pursed his lips thoughtfully. "A thousand upfront. The rest later."

Lynn produced his checkbook and wrote out DiRosario's price. The detective took it, held it up, then folded it and put it in his breast pocket. "I will leave as soon as I can. Probably by five."

"Thank you," Lynn said, gratitude welling within in him.

"My pleasure," he said with a smile.

On the notepad, he wrote ARMED AND EXTREMELY DANGEROUS CRIMINALS and underlined it heavily.

* * *

They stopped for lunch at a Denny's off the highway an hour after crossing into Indiana. Lincoln saw the sign first, towering high into the sky; an embankment sloped away from the interstate, with roads and businesses at the base. If not for big signs, you might miss them.

"Food," he said, pointing.

"Jesus, Lincoln," Luan sighed. "Really?"

"I'm hungry."

"You just had a bag of chips."

"Yeah, two hours ago."

Luan started to snap, but stopped herself. She was hungry too. And tired. She'd been driving almost nonstop all night, and with achy eyes and an empty stomach, she was dangerously close to bitch mode.

"Okay, you're right," she said, merging into the proper lane and taking an off-ramp which rounded a hillock in a rough U-shape. At the bottom, she waited for the light to turn green and then pulled into the Denny's parking lot, which was relatively empty save for a couple big rigs facing the interstate. She slid into a slot facing the restaurant and cut the engine. She turned to Lincoln and leaned back against the door, bringing one of her legs up. "Alright. Here's your lunch. Dig in."

Flashing a grin, he ran his hand up her leg, and she shivered. "That's not lunch," he said, "that's dessert."

The tips of his fingers disappeared beneath the hem of her skirt and she closed her eyes, letting out a long, throaty _hmmmm_.

"You ever get busy in a Denny's bathroom?" he asked.

"No, but if you keep touching me like that I _will_."

He tugged on her underwear, then pulled his hand out. "Well, come on. The sooner we can eat, the sooner I can bend you over a toilet."

"Uh, how about the sink?" she asked as they got out. Lincoln came around the front of the van and slipped his arm around her waist.

"That too."

She nudged his ribs with her elbow.

Inside, the place was nearly deserted. A couple beefy men in flannel and baseball caps with mesh backs sat at the counter, steaming mugs of coffee before them. A black family sat at one of the tables, a little girl maybe a year old strapped into a high chair and doing something funny from the sounds of her family's laughter. Lincoln pointed to an empty table, and they sat.

"I could eat a fucking horse," Lincoln said just as a waitress appeared with laminate menus in her hand.

"Don't have that, hun, sorry," she said, and Lincoln blushed. Luan smiled, and he shot her a dirty look. The waitress sat a menu before each of them then whipped out a notepad, her pen poised. "Can I get ya'll something to drink?"

"Coke," Lincoln said.

"Alright," the waitress jotted that down and turned to Luan. "You, sweetie?"

"Coffee. Please. Strong."

"Okay." The waitress wrote that down as well. "I'll be right back to take your order."

"Thanks," Luan said.

When she was gone, Luan reached her hands across the table and took Lincoln's. "You realize we're, like, outlaws, right?"

Lincoln blinked. He thought of the gun in the glovebox. "I guess?"

"Outlaws don't blush when someone hears them cussing."

"Shut up," he said with a little grin.

"What are you going to do if we get into a shootout with the cops? Cry and wet your tampon?"

Lincoln shook his head.

Luan felt a sudden and inexplicable rush of cruelty. "Like a little bitch."

Lincoln's eyes narrowed and he fixed her with a withering glare. His evil expression was fucking _sexy,_ she realized with a blush.

She lifted his hand to her mouth and brushed her lips against it. He blinked. "I'm so gonna fuck you after we eat."

Lincoln's smile returned. "You're on."

"I'm already _on_. I want to get _off_."

"I need energy first," he said, opening his menu. Luan did likewise, scanning the pictures. She saw eggs, bacon, toast, sausage, pancakes, hamburgers, steak, and ice cream, and her stomach rumbled.

"Ooooh, this looks good," she said.

"What?" Lincoln asked.

"The stuffed crepes."

Lincoln found them in his menu. "Ehhh, too sugary. I want a burger."

"Then get a burger. _I'm_ getting stuffed crepes."

"You're getting stuffed with something alright..."

Luan laughed. "Keep it up, mister, and I'm going to drag you into that bathroom kicking and screaming."

"Speaking of bathroom," Lincoln said, leaning over. "Where is it?"

He scanned the dining room, and saw a sign with an arrow pointing to the left. "I wonder if it's a single."

"I dunno," Luan said, "what, you don't want anyone watching? Or listening?"

"Pretty sure we could go jail," he said, "so, no, I don't want anyone watching."

The waitress came back shortly and took their order: A hamburger and fries for Lincoln and stuffed crepes for Lincoln. She also brought their drinks. The straw sticking out of Lincoln's Coke had a little bit of paper on the top. He took it out, put it to his lips, and blew: The paper shot off and hit Luan in the forehead.

"Hey, jerk," she said. She grabbed a pink packet of Sweet 'n' Low and threw it at him: It struck him in the cheek and stung like a motherfucker.

"God _damn_ ," he said, rubbing his face. Luan laughed at him.

When their food came, they dug in, Lincoln struggling to get his mouth around the burger. It was _huge_ , meaty and cheesy with strips of bacon. Luan's crepes were topped with whipped cream, cherries, blueberries, and bananas. "That does look kind of good," Lincoln said around a mouthful of food.

"You want a bite?" she asked, cutting a piece off with her fork.

"Sure."

She held the fork out and he leaned forward. He was right: It _was_ too sugary. Good, but not a meal.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's alright."

She cut another piece off for herself then looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a devilish smile. "You know...the quicker we eat, the quicker we can do it."

"Yeah?" Lincoln asked, squirting ketchup onto his fries.

"Yeah." Then: "Wanna race?"

Lincoln looked up at her. "Race?"

She answered by hacking off a giant piece of crepe and shoving it into her mouth. Oh, a race, huh? Lincoln snatched up a handful of fries and stuffed them in. Luan took a drink of her coffee then went back for another bite. Lincoln picked up his burger and mashed it against his mouth, pieces of lettuce and tomato dropping onto the plate. A mixture of mayonnaise and grease dripped down his chin.

Luan choked, and reached for her coffee, her face red and her eyes wide. Lincoln laughed, and a wad of food went down the wrong tube: He coughed, bits of chewed meat, bread, and vegetables spraying his plate. He cleared his windpipe with a blast of Coke and checked Luan's progress. She was winning. Shit. He couldn't let her beat him; he had to prove to her that he wasn't a bitch. He rammed the burger into his maw and choked again. Fuck! Starting to panic, he picked up a fry and threw it at her. It hit her in the face, and she flinched. "Goddamn it, Lincoln," she said around a mouthful of food. She flung a cherry at him, and it went down the front of his shirt. "There's my cherry," she remarked.

"Already took that."

"Did you? I can't remember shit sex."

Lincoln stiffened. She smiled and crammed another forkful of crepes into her mouth, a mocking light in her eyes. She was trying to slow him down. Fuck that. He shoved the rest of the fires into his mouth and chewed, taking a drink of Coke to wash them down. He pulled his burger apart and ate it piecemeal, a piece of bun here, some meat there. He swallowed the last bit just as Luan lifted her final forkful to her mouth.

"Ha ha, fuck you," Lincoln said, sitting back and putting his arms behind his head.

"You forgot the fry you threw at me." She put the fork in her mouth and wiggled her eyebrows.

Lincoln's heart bounced. "Doesn't count."

"Yes it does."

"No, it doesn't."

"Lincoln, yes it does." Her tone was serious now.

"Then you forgot your cherry." He reached into his shirt, pulled it out, and started handing it to her, before tossing it over his shoulder. "Oops," he said, putting his index finger to his cheek. He took savage delight in the dirty look she gave him, her brow set and her eyes slitted. She looked like a pissed off fox.

"Fuck you, Lincoln," she said.

"You wanna?"

She started to speak, but nodded. "Yes," she said sheepishly.

"Let's go."

He slid out of the booth and started toward the bathroom, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was following; she was, smoothing out her skirt and wiping her face. She gave him a little look, her eyes angry but her mouth happy, and Lincoln felt himself beginning to get hard.

The bathrooms were side-by-side, one for men and one for women. Lincoln turned the knob and peeked into the men's room. It _was_ a single. Perfect. He slipped in, and Luan came in behind him, shutting and locking the door.

"If you wanna get _really_ kinky I can bend you over the toilet and give you a swirly while you cum," Lincoln suggested.

"That's _not_ kinky, Lincoln Loud," she said as she strutted past him and laid her hands on either edge of the sink, "that's grody." She pushed her butt out and looked at him.

"Whatever you say," he said, coming up behind her. In the mirror, his eyes smoldered with passion, and a little thrill went down Luan's legs, emanating from her already dampening sex. She'd be able to see him (and herself) while he fucked her, and for some reason she couldn't name, that made her _hot_. Reaching under her skirt, she pulled her underwear down to her knees. Lincoln's eyes blazed when she hiked the hem up. She could _feel_ his gaze manhandling her, and she liked it.

"Hard and fast," she said.

"Whatever you say," he repeated. She heard his zipper and trembled in anticipation. He laid one hand on her shoulder and leaned forward, her ponytail tickling his face. His tip brushed her, and she bit her lower lip. Their eyes locked in the mirror.

When he pressed against her moist opening, she gripped the sink harder and bowed her head, her breaths hot and short. He slowly pushed through her lips, his head prying her passage open for the rest of him. When he was half in, he thrusted, and she jerked.

"Harder," she said.

She thought back to all the nights she had angrily masturbated to Lincoln, wanting him, craving him, but not having him, the pain and rage rising, twisting together with her desire like strands of DNA before consuming her in one white hot moment of total fire: Pain and pleasure, agony and ecstasy. Where did one end and the other begin? She didn't know anymore.

He thrust into her.

"Harder," she said.

She wanted, _needed_ to recapture the atom bomb intensity of those orgasms. He thrust, then again. He was treating her like she was made of glass and it was starting to piss her off. An idea came to her. He didn't like jabs at his manhood.

She looked at him in the mirror. "Come on, baby dick," she spat, "I can't feel you."

His face darkened.

"You might as well use your pinky," she said, her face a perfect mask of venom.

That did it. Lincoln grabbed her hips, digging his nails into her soft flesh, and rammed into as hard as he could: His rod cleaved her nearly in half, her walls quivering as his tip scratched roughly against them. Luan let out a gasp and gripped the sink harder, her ponytail swishing from side to side like a pendulum. Lincoln pulled back and surged into her again, his balls slapping her clit and sending tingles up her spine. He pulled back and thrust deep yet again, her muscles clenching as if to repel him. She cried out when he did it again; it felt like he was penetrating her womb, ripping it asunder with his dark passion.

He was going faster now, creating so much friction that her loins burned (was that smoke she smelled?) and her knees trembled.

"Choke me," she moaned.

Slackening his speed just a bit, he reached his forearm around her throat and pulled her back against him. She clenched around him like a vise, and he hissed. Her lungs burst hysterically against her ribcage, and her brain started to panic. Lincoln thrusted, reaching so deeply into her body (and her soul) that she felt like she was dying. The world started to gray at the edges, and her orgasm blossomed in her stomach. She clenched her eyes and gasped for air as it rushed into her oxygen deprived brain. The world exploded, and Luan Loud gave a long screech as her knees gave out, her body twitching and jerking. Lincoln popped out of her and came against the underside of her butt, his molten hot seed splattering her and running down the backs of her legs. He released his grip, and she bent over the sink, gasping for air, her mind still fuzzy and her body weightless.

It was a long time before she looked into the mirror and saw her brother sitting on the toilet, catching his breath. His face was beet red and streaked with sweat. He was so _sexy_.

She licked her teeth and took a deep breath. "Damn," she said.

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah, damn."

"You liked it?"

He looked up at her, and a grin spread across his face. "I did."

He wouldn't admit it to Luan, or even to himself, but he liked it when he was choking her; he had all the control, and she was at his mercy, powerless, totally and utterly reliant upon him. He realized just how much power he had over her when her knees gave out; his orgasm shot out of him moments later. Coincidence?

"So did I," she said. "Can you come wipe your cum off the backs of my legs, please?"

Nodding, Lincoln grabbed a wad of toilet paper and came over, kneeling behind his sister. On both sides, his climax had dripped all the way to her bare ankles, leaving behind it a slick and crooked course. He dabbed as much of it up as he could. He saw a wet spot on the hem of her skirt, but didn't say anything. He liked the thought of her sitting in his cum.

"You're going to need a shower," he said as she pulled her underwear up, wiggling her hips.

"I know. I need sleep too. I'm the only one driving."

"Let's get a room then."

"I don't want to yet," she replied, using a paper towel to wipe her crotch. "We're still too close. I want to be in Illinois before we stop."

Lincoln shrugged. "Can't help you then." He didn't say, but he took offense to the way she said she was the only one driving, like he was a useless piece of shit. Maybe she didn't mean it that way, but he kind of took it that way.

"You ready?" he asked her.

"Yup!" she said perkily.

He took her hand and together they went back into the dining room. Behind them, the door closed on a public restroom that stank of sex.


	5. Killers on the Road

_**I've been drivin' all night, my hand's wet on the wheel  
There's a voice in my head that drives my heel**_

 **\- Golden Earring**

 _ **The luncheonette is laid with talking floors  
and the waitress says it was salt but I know arsenic  
when it's put before me. And the yellow taste of mustard  
to mask the bitter odor of almonds.**_

\- **Stephen King**

* * *

 _Kill them_.

Wayne DiRosario stood before the full length mirror in his bedroom, an annoyed look on his face. He slowly buttoned the white long-sleeved dress shirt, his fingers trembling.

 _Kill them. Kill them._

Done, he picked up the shoulder rig and slipped it on. He took the .357 from the dresser and shoved it into the holster, snapping the strap across the handle. He selected a tie from the rack by the mirror and threaded it around his neck. It was red with diagonal white-trimmed blue stripes. Next, he shrugged into a dark gray blazer.

 _Kill them! Kill them!_

"Will you shut up?" he asked. "I'm going to."

He flashed a smile at his reflection. He looked like a public defender or a small town mayor.

 _Kill them. Criminals. Kill them. They're criminals._

Ignoring the voice, he grabbed his suitcase and carried it out to the Jeep, which he had backed as close to the kitchen door as possible. The hatch stood open. He slid the case in then went back inside. Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked a door off the kitchen and snapped on a light. He took down a long black case from the top of a bookshelf, sat it on a desk crammed with papers, and unzipped it. Inside was an M4 rifle with a scope attachment and extra magazines. He checked them, made sure they were all fully loaded, and then grabbed a green rucksack from a corner. He opened it and rummaged through it. Duct tape. Ropes. Knives. Zip ties. Night vision goggles. Lock picking kit. Flashlight. Other handy things.

 _Criminals. Incest. Criminals. Gay._

"I'm not fucking gay!" DiRosario spat, holding a hand up. "I'm not!"

 _Killers. Armed and dangerous. Take them out. Terminate. Kill, kill, kill._

Sighing, he slung the rucksack over his shoulder: It was so heavy that he nearly toppled over. "Holy shit," he muttered, his back screaming. He grabbed the rifle case and went out the door. He loaded both into the Jeep's cargo hold and slammed the hatch. When he saw Junior Preston leaning against his side of the fence, a crooked grin on his face, he jumped.

"Hey ya, Wayne, headin' out?"

"Yeah," Wayne said, "I have..."

 _He knows. They all know. Laughing at you._

"...a case." He almost shouted the last two words; he could barely hear himself speaking.

"Good!" Junior replied loudly, his dumb, wrinkled face glowing with borderline retardation. "Work's good!"

"It sure is, Junior."

Wayne went back inside and did a final sweep of the house, making sure he had everything. He grabbed a zip tie and opened a door, flicking a switch. In the dimly lit basement, he went over to the cage wedged between the stone wall and the long defunct boiler. A naked woman was curled up inside, not moving. He opened the cage and lifted her head. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned. "I'm going away now," he said as he wrapped the zip tie around her neck and pulled. Her eyes shot open and her cheeks puffed out as she gasped for air. "I'll take care of you when I get back. Okay?"

He locked the cage and stood over her as she thrashed like a fish flopping on the shore. She was a criminal, a prostitute plying her disgusting trade on , that cyber cesspool that had been the bane of his existence for fifteen years. Wayne _hated_ prostitutes, the way they strutted around in their hot pants and boots like Medieval plague rats, spreading pestilence and death in their wake. They were almost as bad as drug dealers. He sneered as she died, his heart racing. He put his hands on his hips and waited for her to fall still. When she did, he spat on her and went back upstairs. On his way out the door, he grabbed the picture of the Loud family from his kitchen table. Behind the wheel of the Jeep, he clipped it to the sunvisor and stared at it.

 _Kill them. Mommy doesn't like it. She knows. She hates it. Kill them. Kill them._

He counted eleven children, ten of them girls. They looked happy and normal.

Except for the perps.

Luan Loud, her arms crossed and her eyebrows angled down, reminded him of his mother. How many times had he come home from school to see her staring at him that way, angry over something he didn't do? Luan wore a skirt and a blouse whereas his mother wore housecoats and muumuus. Still, they were the same person.

 _She came back for you. She came back. She came back._

He saw his mother's face where Luan's had been, and blinked. It was gone, but the cold horror remained in his stomach, slick and oily.

 _She came back._

Lincoln, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, watched the camera with marked disinterest, his lips tight.

How many people had they killed already?

Dozens, Wayne figured. There were probably bodies from here to Chicago; shot, stabbed, strangled, burned, shoved into the trunks of cars and dumped in bushes along the highway. They were like Bonnie and Clyde, or Charles Starkweather and that little slut Fugate, killing their way across the country and laughing at him. Always laughing.

 _I came back for you,_ his mother spoke from the middle of his head, _I came back, I came back, I came back._

"Shut up," Wayne said.

 _Catch me if you can, Wayne. Do it right this time._

He suddenly had the intense desire to drive by Heaven's Gate cemetery and make sure she was still in the ground.

 _I'm not. I'm with Lincoln. We're kiiiiiiiiilling people, Wayne, killing them and dealing drugs._

Wayne raked his hand through his hair.

 _Oh, and incest! Hot, dirty, disgusting, unnatural, immoral incest..._

Wayne turned on the radio, threw the Jeep into drive, and pulled out onto Quincy Ave, turning north toward the interstate. He drummed his fingers against the wheel as The Bee Gees made their way through "Jive Talkin'" glancing up at the picture of the Louds every couple minutes. Luan stayed Luan. She did _not_ become his mother. He needed to think like her. My name's Luan Loud and I like puns. My parents said I wasn't _a-loud_ to have sex with my own brother so we robbed them and left. Now we're killing people and having disgusting sex.

They were following the interstate. It was the most direct route west. Luan was unsure of herself. She wouldn't take backroads. She was young.

Wayne merged onto I-94 west and fell in line behind a tractor trailer. "You're listening to your hometown station. 95.9 WGRQ. Super hits of the sixties and seventies." John Mellencamp came on next with "Jack and Diane." Wayne listened to the lyrics, shocked at how aptly they fit Lincoln and Luan Loud. They were two American kids growing up in the heartland...then something went wrong and they became monsters. It was a message. He was on the right track.

As he drove, Wayne scanned the shoulders of the highway for dead bodies, but didn't see any. Somewhere ahead, along the highway, were the killers. And he was coming for them.

* * *

They stopped at a rundown motel in the town of Hinton, fifty miles east of Chicago; it was an L-shaped building with a green slate roof and moldy brick walls. There was only one other car in the parking lot, a silver Toyota pick-up truck with Ohio plates.

It had been raining for over an hour, alternating between heavy downpour and light drizzle. The cars in front of them kicked up heavy sheets of water, and Vanzilla's ancient windshield wipers struggled to keep up.

"I'm starting to see double," Luan croaked at one point, her eyes squinting against the glare.

"Let's stop," Lincoln said. He was tired too; he could sleep anytime he wanted, but it didn't seem fair when Luan couldn't. Plus, he didn't want to look like a little bitch. "We're far enough away. What are they going to do, hitchhike after us?"

"No, but the cops –"

"We don't have to worry about the cops."

"Yes we do, Lincoln," she said. "Taking a stolen vehicle across state lines is a federal crime."

Lincoln did not know that. "I know that, but out of all the crimes in this country, we're pretty low on the totem pole."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

They took the next exit and followed a series of road signs to the motel. RELAX INN screamed the sign out front. While Luan went into the office, Lincoln fiddled with the radio and eyed the Coke machine under the covered walkway. He could go for a Coke once they got settled.

After a few minutes, Luan returned and climbed behind the wheel. "Room 116," she said, throwing the van into reverse and backing up. "You ever notice how Indians and Arabs own all the motels?"

"No." Lincoln said. "And that's vaguely racist."

"Fuck you," Luan said humorlessly as she pulled into a parking space.

"Fuck you too."

While Luan went into the room, Lincoln went around to the back of the van and grabbed their bags. He dropped them inside the door and studied the room. The walls were faded wood paneling, the single bed was neatly made with a floral print blanket, a painting hanging on the wall over it (a flower grove), and a table and chair set sat by the curtained window. The light came from a lamp on the nightstand. It was warm and low.

"I need a shower," Luan said, and glanced over her shoulder with a crooked smile. "I'm still sticky from lunch."

Lincoln grinned as he remembered.

"I'll do that later though," she said as she yawned. "I wanna get dirty again."

"Sounds like a plan," Lincoln said.

While she used the bathroom, he went back out to the van, opened the door, and reached into the glovebox. Inside, he sat on the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and sat the gun next to the obligatory Bible. Just in case. Lots of weird people on the highways and byways of America. You can never be too careful.

Luan came out of the bathroom and kicked out of her shoes. With a sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him. Then she laid back and propped herself up on her elbow. With a smile, she motioned him forward with her finger. Lincoln felt himself starting to stir, and with a smile, he went to her, putting his hand on her face and tilting his head, their lips touching and their tongues meeting. Lincoln pushed her back against the bed and slipped his hand into her shirt, his fingers finding her nipple and stroking it. She kissed him hungrily, desperately, her hand working at the zipper of his jeans. When he came free, she took him in her hand and ran her fingers up and down his shaft, making him shudder.

She broke the kiss and mounted him, her burning center enveloping him in wet heat. She planted her hands on either side of him and grinned naughtily. He suddenly wanted to see her with her hair down, so he reached up and pulled her scrunchie out: Her hair spilled free and hung down, enshrouding their faces...blocking out everything but their passion.

"I love you, Lincoln," she said. "With all my heart."

"I love you too, Luan," he replied, and kissed her slowly, cherishing the taste of her mouth. She shifted her hips and took him inside of her, his member sliding wetly through the veil of her sex and deep into her stomach, her satin walls undulating around him, her muscles clenching ever so slightly as if in welcome. He ran his hands up her legs and to her hips. She tossed her hair and found a smooth motion, Lincoln taking his cues from her and rising up to meet her. She gradually increased her speed until she was going so fast the headboard slapped a steady tempo against the wall. All Lincoln could do was hold onto her butt for dear life, his nails digging into her soft flesh. She was panting, her head up and her eyes closed, her hair in lying lank in her face. She was so beautiful, and Lincoln simply watched her, letting go and taking her cheeks in his hands, running them down the sides of her face to her slender throat. She was gasping in time to the headboard's beat, her tunnel beginning to constrict around him as her body prepared to cum. In response, he swelled against her, his love threatening to rip her in half. She cried out as she brought herself down one final time and then convulsed with her orgasm. Lincoln, gritting his teeth, let himself go, his seed flooding into her.

For a long time afterwards they held each other, their breathing gradually calming and their pounding hearts falling, sweat drying on their skin.

"You know how many times I dreamed of this, Lincoln?" Luan asked, stroking his cheek.

"Not as many times as me," he replied, and kissed the corner of her mouth.

"It made me so mad that I couldn't have you," she said. "You were right there, close enough to touch...but I couldn't." Tears welled in her eyes, and he hugged her against his chest.

"Me too. But that's over."

She sighed. He was right, it _was_ over, but why did she still feel anger in her heart? Why did she feel the same old rage that she'd been feeling for three years?

Holding her, Lincoln wondered much the same thing. It was all over and he had his precious Luan, but deep inside, the embers of his fury still glowed, and beneath that, the cold, cold ash of depression.

It was over, but they were scarred.

Not realizing this yet but feeling _something_ , they held each other close and fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Wayne DiRosario drove long into the night, the radio turned up and the A/C on, the vents pointed directly at his face, the air so cold his teeth chattered. They had a roughly fifteen hour jump on him. The girl was the only driver, so that meant they'd have to stop. The van was big enough from what Lynn Loud said that they could stretch out inside, but something told him they would prefer the comforts of a motel room. Criminals are soft. He was not. He would sleep for a few hours in the Jeep when he could drive no longer, which might very well be soon. His eyes were starting to blur and his mind was beginning to get muddled. The voice was weaker, coming less frequently. For once, Wayne missed it.

 _Killers on the turnpike. Criminals. They're killing people as we speak, as we speak, killing people._

Wayne rubbed his grainy eyes and blinked. On the radio, Eddie Rabbit sang an up-tempo song. WGRQ went out around Battle Creek, and he had to switch channels, settling on a station playing classic country. Wayne liked classic country. It was pure, not like the new crap, which was filled with criminals and perverts: All the songs were about sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. And the occasional mention of fried chicken and dirt roads to remind you you were listening to a country song.

It was after 2am by the soft green glow of the dash clock. Wayne had stopped only once, at a TA truck stop near Lake Michigan to gas up and hurriedly eat dinner: A BLT on untoasted bread. That's the hardest sandwich to poison. Unless they slather it with mayo, you can _taste_ it. The waitress was a fat old lady with cat-eye glasses whose face was bloated and stern. She made Wayne uncomfortable. At one point he saw her talking to the cook through the little window to the kitchen, then they both looked at him. His coffee tasted funny after that and he didn't drink it.

 _They know. Criminals. They know. Killers. Coming for you. They know, they know, they know killers killers._

Wayne paid and rushed out, feeling like he was going to be shot. For a moment he considered taking out the M4 and raking the place with vengeance, but he had to hurry. Lincoln and Luan were pulling ahead, slashing throats and holding hands like a couple of children in a nursery rhyme.

He'd been on the road ever since. He wasn't sure when they'd stopped for the night, or if they even planned to sleep the whole night. He did the math in his head and figured they'd either be in Chicago or almost to it. If they left at 2am, 24 hours ago, he doubted Luan would have made it much past 5 before needing to sleep, meaning he could catch up with them possibly tomorrow if he didn't sleep long.

He glanced up at the picture clipped to the sunvisor, his eyes narrowing at her knitted brows and crossed arms. I'm coming for you, killer.

At ten to three, he pulled off the highway and parked in a rest area parking lot: A big brick building with bathrooms and snack machines was nestled in a grove of trees and lit with bright floodlights. A man held the leash of a small dog as it squatted in the grass.

Wayne parked as far away from everyone else as he could, locked all the doors, and rested his head against the window, his arms crossed over his scrawny chest.

Soon.

Soon he would make those killers pay.


	6. Sunday Morning

The more Lynn Loud considered Amber's proposal, the more she liked it.

It was Sunday morning, after breakfast, and Lynn was lying in bed, her hands crossed behind her head. Bright sunlight flooded the room and warmed the bare flesh of her arms and legs. Normally, they would have been in church, but given the circumstances, mom and dad were letting them skip, which was fine with Lynn. Then again, she had at least an hour and a half of nothing to do until Amber and her grandmother got done at their church and she could go over. Thus, she alternated between thinking of what Amber had said and worrying over Lincoln and Luan. She preferred entertaining the former rather than the latter.

She and Amber had used toys in the past. Strap-ons, dildos, vibrators, and a host of other things. Lynn was perfectly content with these...but the more she imagined a real penis, the more she wanted to try it.

Clyde McBride though? He was...he was a goofball! Totally not the type of guy Lynn would go for if she was straight: She liked the pretty boys, the kind you saw and couldn't tell if they were a man or a woman. Leonardo DiCaprio was _hot_ when he was younger. She'd admit that in a heartbeat. Clyde McBride _wasn't._ Then again, he was a nice enough guy, and the point wasn't to find someone hot and sexy but just to find a dick, and Clyde had one...she assumed.

"What rhymes with "cold soul"?" Lucy asked. She was sitting in the middle of her bed with a notebook open on her lap.

"I don't know," Lynn said. "Bowl?"

Lucy shook her head and sighed. "Lincoln would know."

Lynn started to point out that Lincoln hadn't exactly been in the mood to help her with her poems in a _long_ time, but didn't. He _was_ really good with that kind of thing. She felt a sharp pang of loss, not unlike the pangs she'd occasionally felt over the past three years when it occurred to her that even though her brother was right there in front of her, he was gone, like a coma patient. Now he (and Luan) were _really_ gone, like coma patients after dying. She heaved a sad sigh and sat up. It was 9:58 by her phone. Amber usually got out of church around 10:45. If she took a shower and then took her time getting dressed, she could kill at least half an hour, then leave and get to Amber's right after she got home. She didn't particularly like the idea of showing up instantly like that, because it made her feel desperate and clingy, but right now she didn't really care. Sitting around the house was starting to get to her: Lincoln and Luan's absence hung heavy in the air.

In the bathroom, she stripped naked and turned the shower on, getting the temperature just right before stepping under the spray, the hot water hitting her bare skin and sending a shiver down her spin. She wet her hair and turned, letting the stream pound down on her back, beads sluicing from her prominent shoulder blades to the dimples at the base of her spine.

Clyde McBride. Yeah, he was a nice guy. At least he _was._ She didn't know much about him now. When he hung out with Lincoln, she actually kind of liked having him over. Now that she thought about it, he reminded her a lot of Lincoln...

Okay, maybe that's not the best thought to have about a dude you're thinking about banging. She loved her brother, but she wasn't Luan. Or Lincoln, for that matter.

How can two siblings be attracted to each other like that? Not...how dare they...but how? To her, it simply wasn't possible. In general, when it came to women, she liked the more feminine types (Amber was a perfect mixture of both feminine and masculine, and Lynn was happy with that). Leni was feminine. Thinking of her, however, sparked nothing inside of her but intense sisterly love. She called up a vision of Leni in her mind and slowly undressed it, shivering with disgust and pushing it away when its dream-tits popped out. What could have drawn Lincoln and Luan together?

She didn't know, but if that's what made them happy, great.

After lathering and rinsing, Lynn cut the water, grabbed her towel, and dried off, dressing in a fresh change of clothes. In her room, she sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her shoes on. She checked her phone. 10:20. Not enough time, but oh well. She didn't have much time to spend with Amber anyway. Leni and Lori would be home by three, one from Chicago and the other from Boston. She was excited to have them back, even if it was only for the summer. Though there were still plenty of people in the Loud house (well...before Lincoln and Luan left, but even now), it felt kind of empty without them. She wasn't looking forward to Luna leaving. Another one gone, another empty spot at the table. God, things were changing so fast.

Shaking that thought away, she went downstairs, told her parents she was going out, and walked to Amber's house, her hands in her pockets. She was just turning onto Amber's street when she bumped into someone. _Clyde? You again?_

It was Amber.

"Hey, Lynn Loud!" Amber said. "Where were _you_ going?"

Lynn shrugged. "Just for a walk. Where were _you_ going?"

"Just for a walk."

They held hands and started toward the park. "So I was thinking about what you said yesterday," Lynn said, "and I wanna do it."

Amber hissed through clenched teeth. "I don't know. I'm having second thoughts."

"Huh? Why?"

"Well, I was thinking about it, and...it seemed to really upset you and I feel bad. I don't want you to think..."

"No, it's fine, really," Lynn said, telling the truth. "You were right, I have thought about it and I do want to try it."

"You sure? I mean..." she stopped and looked into Lynn's eyes. "I love you, Lynn, and I don't want to hurt you."

"I love you too," Lynn said. "And, hey, I'm gonna be fucking him too. Maybe we can turn it into a competition." Her eyes narrowed and a wicked little grin spread across her face.

Amber raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah?"

Lynn nodded. "First one to make him cum wins."

Amber laughed. "And just what exactly are we winning?"

Lynn shrugged. "Bragging rights?"

"Oh, you're _so_ on. Bitch."

* * *

"So...Lincy and Luan are gone?" Leni asked. She was sitting in the back seat of a rented Prius, her parents in the front and Lori next to her in the back; her sister wore a pained expression.

"Yes," dad said lowly, "but we're working on getting them back."

Bitter disappointment flooded Leni. She was looking forward to seeing _all_ of her family, and now they weren't all going to be there. They would be incomplete. Broken. She told herself she was just as upset about Luan being gone as she was Lincoln being gone, but deep down she knew that she wasn't. She loved Luan (even more after what she had done to her...a crime for which Leni would _never_ forgive herself...a crime which haunted her sleep), but she felt a special bond with Lincoln. He was her loyal little puppy dog. And...though she wasn't in love with him anymore and never had been (she was mistaking feelings of familial love for feelings of romantic love, her doctors pointed out), he _was_...well...he _was_ the only boy she had ever been with. How much more connected can two people be?

"I'm not surprised," Lori finally said.

No one replied. No one had the energy for another argument.

"Do you know where they are?" Leni asked.

"No," Lynn Sr. said, "but we have a private investigator looking for them. He's one of the best in the business and totally professional. They'll be home in no time."

"I hope," Leni said, "I want to see them." She hugged herself.

"Me too," Lori said, looking sadly down into her lap.

They pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later, and Leni got her bags from the trunk. The house and neighborhood looked the same as it had the last time she visited...except for that chain-link fence between yards across the street; that was new, and it threw Leni. It was such a small thing, but for some reason, it gave her a strange feeling. Call it deja vu in reverse: The uncanny feeling that you've never been somewhere or done something before even though you have.

Shaking her head, she carried her bags into the house, where all of her sisters were waiting. When she walked in, they mobbed her, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Wow, it's like I've been gone for _years_."

"We missed you!" Lana said.

"It's hell not having another fashion-sensible person in the house," Lola said, hugging her leg. "How was the trip?"

"Okay," Leni said, patting Lisa on the head and kissing Lucy's forehead. "There was a _lot_ of turbulence though. I thought I was _totes_ gonna puke."

"Here, let me take your bags," Luna said, snatching Leni's bags out of her hands.

"Well, okay then," she laughed. She scanned her siblings. "Where's Lynn?"

"She's out with her girlfriend," Lucy said. "She'll be back soon."

"Alright," Leni said and sighed contentedly. All of the stress and anger of the past week left her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt good...truly and totally _good_. She looked from one of her sisters to the other, her chest swelling with love. That love was tinged with sadness because Lincoln and Luan were not here, but it was warm and nice nevertheless.

Later, after unpacking her bags and putting her clothes away in her old dresser, she flopped onto her bed. In the next bed over, Lori was lying against her pillow. "I'm _so_ tired," she said. Her flight left Logan Airport at 6:45am, which meant she was awake at 3:00 and sitting in the terminal at 5:00. She'd learned a lot of things in her three year college career; the benefits of being safe rather than sorry one of them. If you weren't safe, you might miss a class and almost flunk a semester.

"I'm not," Leni said. Her mind was flying at a mile a minute. There was so much she wanted to do this summer, so many precious moments she wanted to spend with her sisters (and, hopefully, at some point, her brother). She wanted to do Lola's hair and make-up, she wanted to help Lucy with her poems, she wanted to listen to all of Luna's new music. "But I'm so comfy I _could_ fall asleep."

"It _is_ nice being home," Lori said. "I miss it a lot."

"Me too."

Lori turned her head and faced her sister. "So, how are you doing? How's school going?"

"Good," she said. She didn't mention that cheating asshole Dave Benson. This was a happy occasion; he had no place in it. "I'm doing really well. I'm, like, one of the best in my class. You?"

"Getting by," Lori said, and chuckled sardonically. She was studying to be a lawyer; she figured she liked arguing, so why not get paid to do it? Law was a lot harder than she thought it would be, but the more she learned about it, the more certain she became that she had picked the right career path. "I'm not flunking, so that's something, right?"

"Yeah," Leni said.

Though Lori hated to admit it, she was kind of jealous of Leni. She seemed to be floating through school with grace and ease. Meanwhile, Lori felt so overwhelmed sometimes that she could literally cry, and had. She didn't know that Leni secretly envied her as well, because she didn't fight a constant battle against demons in her head. For Leni, even the good days weren't exactly easy, but she got by because she (and all of her siblings) had been raised to never give up and to fight for what they wanted.

She thought of Lincoln and Luan. They wanted each other, and they were fighting for that, weren't they?

She just hoped they were doing okay out there. Wherever they were.

* * *

If there is really a wrong side of the bed, Lincoln and Luan both woke up on it that Sunday morning. The first indication of trouble came when Luan couldn't find her underwear, and got so frustrated looking under the bed and the nightstand that she literally shook. "Where's my underwear?" she asked. Lincoln pulled on a pair of jeans and a white tank-top which exposed his arms. He admired them in the mirror over the dresser. They weren't as weak and puny as they once were. "I don't know," he said.

"Well, I can't find them."

Was she implying _he_ took them? His neck flushed. "I don't know," he repeated.

"Could you help me _look?"_

"Alright," he sighed.

He got down on his hands and knees, checking behind the dresser, under the table, and beneath the A/C unit under the window. He found a red bottle top, but no underwear. "I don't see them," he called.

"Damn it!" she spat, getting to her feet, placing her hands on her hips, and looking around, as if she expected them to walk into sight on their own.

"You gonna put dirty underwear on?" he asked, getting up.

"No," she said with an edge, "but I don't want to leave them."

"Buy some more."

"We don't have that much money, Lincoln."

"We have enough to buy a pack of underwear for ten bucks. You expect us to wear the underwear we have now until it rots?"

She held up her hand and went into the bathroom. Lincoln's brow furrowed. She was _really_ getting on his nerves, and it wasn't even 6:30 yet. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the bed and put his shoes on. He went to get up, but spotted Luan's underwear tangled in the sheets, white with yellow smiley faces. They were cute. And she was cute _in_ them.

She came out of the bathroom. "I don't..."

"Found them," he said. He balled them up and tossed them at her. She caught them.

"Where were they?"

"In the sheets."

She nodded and went back into the bathroom. No thank you, no sorry, nothing. How do you like that?

She poked her head back out. "You gonna join me?"

Lincoln thought about it. He was awake at 5:30 and showered then, letting Luan sleep. He looked down at himself. He was fully dressed.

What the hell?

"Yeah."

"Great," she smiled, and went into the bathroom. Lincoln stripped naked and followed. Her naked body was blurry behind the curtain, and he stopped to admire it. Even if she made him mad sometimes, she was so fucking beautiful, and he was lucky to have her.

He pulled the curtain back and ducked in behind her, his eyes going instantly to her tight butt and then slowly crawling north, to her shoulder blades and her wet hair clumped against her shoulders. He put his hands on her hips and drew her close.

"Be careful," she laughed. "You almost made her slip."

"Sorry," he said, kissing her neck, beads of water breaking against his lips. He ran his hands down her stomach, and she leaned her head back into the crook of his neck. His fingers brushed the spot between her legs, and she sighed. With his fore and middle finger, he traced it, the skin smooth and silky. With his other hand, her cupped her breast and squeezed. She let out a yelp and looked at him with big eyes. "That hurt...I _like_ it."

He squeezed again, harder this time, and the tip of his middle finger slipped into her. They kissed, the water pounding against their faces; she reached back and took him in her hand, stroking the top of his shaft with her thumb.

He slid another finger into her, her moistening channel tightening around him, her inner walls slick, soft, and hot. He broke the kiss, and nipped her shoulder. "Ooooh," she said. "That's nice."

"You like?"

"I do."

He did it again, increasing the speed of his strokes. She increased her speed too. In minutes, she started to shake, and he felt himself beginning to cum. He buried his tip in the crease of her butt and came, his hips instinctively thrusting.

"Alright, now to get to get clean."

She used a tiny bar of motel soap to lather up, Lincoln admiring the way the suds coated her supple body. Cut off from the spray of the water, he was starting to get cold. He crossed his arms and waited his turn.

And waited.

And waited.

Anger welled up within him. Damn, this bitch was taking forever, meanwhile his teeth were literally chattering. "Can we hurry it up?" he asked. "I'm cold as shit."

"Be patient."

"I've been patient for the past fifteen minutes. I want my turn under the water."

"Wait."

He did.

Was she purposely taking her sweet ass time? He thought she was. Reaching over her, he angled the shower head away.

"Lincoln!"

She slapped his arm away.

"Are you almost done?" he asked as she pointed the head back at her.

"Yes! Goddamn!"

Five minutes later, she switched him spots, and the warm water against his cold body made him sigh. "Happy now?"

"Very."

Shaking her head, she got out and toweled off while Lincoln warmed his skin. After a few minutes, he got out, grabbed the other towel, and dried himself. In the room, Luan was stepping into a pair of underwear. Lincoln liked the way they clung to her butt. She turned, her breasts still free, and put her hands on her hips. "Like what you see?" she asked with a grin.

"I do."

She dressed in a white summer dress that stopped half way to her knees, showcasing her bare legs. Lincoln licked his lips, and got dressed himself while she put her hair up in a ponytail and then slipped her shoes on.

On their way to the van, a black guy was loading the open trunk of a maroon Intrepid with suitcases; he stopped to openly stared at Luan, and Lincoln flushed with anger. He reached out and squeezed her butt just so the asshole knew she was his.

"That was some good sex we had last night," he said loudly.

She glanced at him, her eyebrows arching. "True," she said, "but do you really have to tell the whole world?"

Lincoln glanced at the peeping tom. He slammed the trunk and disappeared into his room.

 _She's mine,_ Lincoln thought, _and no one's ever going to take her away from me again._

They got breakfast from a McDonald's drive-thru and ate on the road. It was a clear, sunny Sunday, and traffic was light until they started getting closer to Chicago. Lincoln grabbed the Rand-McNally road atlas from the glovebox and flipped to the Illinois section; he already knew Chicago would be a congested nightmare.

"We should take Route 6," he said, "avoid Chicago. We can pick the interstate up at Coal City."

"How much time will _that_ add to our trip?"

Lincoln looked at the map. "I don't know, but it'll probably wind up saving us time. The city's going to be a madhouse. Traffic's already getting heavy and we're still fifteen miles out."

Luan shook her head. "I'm not getting off the highway. That's how you get lost."

"We won't get lost, it's..."

"No."

Lincoln shut the atlas and tossed it onto the floor. Fine. Whatever.

Two hours later, they were halfway past Chicago, traffic moving at a crawl, Lincoln's teeth grinding and his arms crossed. The city skyline rose against the blue heavens like a collection of gravestones. Honking, yelling, and cursing salted the air. He knew he shouldn't be getting angry, it's not like they had anywhere to be, but it sat heavy in his chest anyway.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Luan moaned, throwing her head back.

"I told you we should get off the highway," he said. "You didn't listen."

"I'm not getting lost, Lincoln," she said harshly. "Sorry."

"We're not going to get lost," Lincoln snapped, gesturing to the atlas on the floor. "We have a map. The road's a loop. Only an idiot would get lost on it." His voice was rising.

"Lincoln, shut up; your little girl voice is getting on my nerves."

"Fuck you, bitch!" He shook his head and fought the urge to smash out the window. He already felt emasculated enough, having lain in a pool of tears for three years and letting Luan, the girl he loved, do the same, _without_ her fucking digs. Each one, even in jest, grated on him a little more than the last.

She sighed and shook her head. For a long time, neither of them spoke, the atmosphere heavy and oppressive. They finally made it past Chicago, and road opened up before them.

Luan felt bad about what she said. He just...he got on her nerves and the first thing she went for was what she knew would hurt him most. Why? What kind of fucking monster was she? Why was she still full of anger, and why was that anger turning on Lincoln, whom she loved with everything she had? She _was_ a bitch.

She reached out and put her hand on his leg. He stiffened under her touch. "I'm sorry," she said, and looked at him. His arms were crossed and he stared out the window. "I just..." she sighed. "I get mad sometimes and...I don't know why. I guess it's leftover from being so mad for so long at mom and dad, and eventually our sisters. I love you, Lincoln. You're the most precious thing in the world to me."

He looked at her, his angry face dropping, and put his hand on hers. "I-I get angry too."

"We're going to have to work through this together," Luan said, looking back at the highway. "We're all we have now."

He smiled wanly and squeezed her hand. "I love you."

She flashed him a beatific smile.

Even at her worst, Lincoln was happy to have her.

And he would _never_ let her go.


	7. Catching Up

**This chapter contains multiple references to the work of AberrantScript, including a scene from his current ongoing story "My Only Sunshine" which features a pants-shittingly terrifying depiction of Leni. His story "To Know His Sisters" also gets a nod.**

* * *

Wayne DiRosario spent two fitful hours asleep in his Jeep before pulling back onto the highway, his eyes grainy and his head aching. It was just before dawn, and the highway was largely empty. He rolled the windows down and let the cool night air wash over him; it was invigorating enough that he was able to make it to a gas station off the interstate and load up on coffee and snacks, including sunflower seeds, his favorite. He also bought a pack of Kools.

The sun was beginning to rise, and he put his sunglasses on. Shoving fistfuls of seeds into his mouth, he got back onto the highway and chased the night, the sun rising behind him.

 _Killers. Criminals. Killers. Mommy's back. Killers. Hookers. Kill. Kill. Kill._

He turned the radio up to drown the voice out. The Beach Boys were playing "Good Vibrations," and Wayne tapped the wheel in an off-key tempo. He could _feel_ vibrations in the air. If he squinted hard enough, he could see them like lines of static across a malfunctioning television set. At times they were faint, but at others they were so thick that he had to blink his eyes. He was getting close. Thirty miles east of Chicago, a tractor-trailer jackknifed, and traffic was backed up for nearly an hour, the police only letting one or two cars through at a time. Sighing, Wayne sat back and crossed his arms, waiting, silently waiting, always waiting.

 _Get them. Hurry. Criminals. Slipping away._

"I can't drive through fucking cars, now can I?" he asked impatiently.

 _Hurry. Mommy. Killers. Dealing drugs._

"I _know_ what they're doing."

 _Cops. Watching you. Killers. Psychopaths._

Wayne swallowed hard. A cop was indeed looking at him, waving cars on. He wore an orange vest with yellow stripes and POLICE across the back. Wayne's heart stumbled in his chest, and he instinctively reached for the revolver under his left arm; simply touching it made him feel better.

After the snare, the highway opened up and he kept a steady speed, weaving in and out of traffic when someone went to slow for his liking. He stopped at a Dunkin Donuts as the snacks weren't filling him up, and bought a dozen glazed. He ate three of them before deciding they were tainted and tossing the rest out the window. A mile later, as he wondered if he was going to die or not, a silver Pontiac pulled along the passenger side of the Jeep, a man hanging out the window and gesturing angrily, his mouth moving but producing no sound. Wayne rolled down the window.

"Hey, asshole, you almost made me crash! I got fucking donuts all over my windshield now!"

"Fuck you," Wayne said.

"Hey, man, fuck you! You wanna pull over and have a word?"

Wayne pulled the gun from his shoulder rig and pointed it: The guy's face went white and he slammed on his brakes. Wayne glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled when someone rear-ended the prick, his precious little Pontiac shooting forward and angling to the right before crashing into the concrete divider between lanes.

 _Killer. Psycho. Bastard._

"Enjoy the donuts, killer," Wayne said, and laughed so hard he cried, bending over the wheel and shaking his head. Enjoy the donuts! Have one while you wait for the rescue squad, hell, take another for the trip to the morgue.

For a while, he listened to the radio while he drove, hoping to hear news about the crash and expecting to hear news about dead bodies being found along the turnpike. He didn't hear anything, though an ABC newsbreak _did_ mention a shooting outside a church in Kansas City that left five people dead. Were they really _that_ far ahead? He didn't know how. Unless of course his mother didn't need to stop and sleep like normal people. Hahahaha! Normal! She wasn't normal, like him, she was a ghost; of course she didn't have to stop and sleep. He was foolish to think she did.

He had to hurry before she and Lincoln gave him the slip. He stepped on the gas and sped forward, aggressively threading his way through traffic. He hit a jam just outside Chicago like he figured he would. City traffic was the worst. This particular snare, however, was _really_ bad, and he wondered if his mother was using her mind to block him. Frustration rose in his chest, and he fidgeted in his seat, pounding the wheel and cursing her, her new lover, and the bleak skyline of the Windy City.

 _Killers. Criminals. Fourteen-year-old stepfather._

"He's not my father."

 _New father, new father, new father..._

"He's not my father! Stop saying that!"

 _He's your father_ now _, Wayne,_ his mother said, _and we're going to have a baby._

"No you're not!" he screamed, clamping his hands over his ears. "You're dead! I killed you!"

 _You didn't do it right, Wayne; you never do_ anything _right!_

"Shut up!

 _You're a failure. And a homosexual._

"I am not!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I'm not a failure and I'm not a h-homosexual!"

 _Queer, loser, queer, loser._

Wayne flashed and punched the horn; it emitted a short _beep_. He turned the radio up as loud as it would go, the speakers vibrating with Steely Dan. Shut up, bitch, you're dead; shut up, bitch, you're dead; shut up bitch, shut up, shut up shut up shutup shutup...

* * *

Lynn Loud came through the back door at 4:05 that afternoon, her face flush and her brow covered in sweat. She and Amber stayed later at the park than either expected to; some girls from school were playing softball and she and Amber joined. They totally _trounced_ those bitches.

The first thing Lynn noticed when she entered the kitchen was the heavenly smell of frying hamburger meat; it caressed her nostrils and drew her forward like an animate tendril in an old cartoon. A cast iron skillet sat on the stove, unattended, grease popping and crackling. A plate laden with cheeseburgers sat on the counter next to it. Tossing a glance around, Lynn crept over to the plate and was _just_ reaching for one of the juicy, delicious, meaty patties when a hand fell on her shoulder, and she jumped with a sharp cry.

"What are you doing?"

Lynn turned around, and Leni was there, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Lynn blinked. "I-uh –"

"You were going to steal a hamburger, weren't you?" Leni leaned forward, and Lynn's heart started to race.

"No, I –"

"Those _aren't_ for you," she said, brushing past Lynn and picking up a spatula. "This one's for you!"

She lifted a burger out of the pan and sat it on the plate. It was bigger than the rest and had two strips of yummy bacon under melted cheese.

Leni turned to Lynn, her smile fading. "You look like you saw a ghost."

"You just scared me is all," Lynn stammered.

"You act like I'm going to dig my claws into your arm and threaten you with a knife." She squared her shoulders. "'You dirty rat,'" she said in a deep, faux angry voice. "'I'm gonna stock up on bleach, ammonia, and rat poison now.'"

"T-That's terrifying," Lynn said.

"Sorry. How are you?" Leni drew her into a hug, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

"I'm good," Lynn said, hugging her back. "I'm happy you're home."

"Me too. I have _lots_ of fun stuff planned this summer. I wanna spend a lot of time with you guys. Now go wash up and we can eat."

Leni crossed to the sink and washed her hands. When she was done, she went into the dining room, but doubled back when she remembered she forgot something. Standing at the fridge, she scanned a piece of paper marked CONTACTS and held in place with a magnet shaped like a slice of watermelon. When she found the name MCBRIDE, she whipped out her phone and copied it down.

" _When do you wanna do it?"_ Lynn asked as she and Amber walked home from the park.

" _I dunno. My grandmother's going to be out of the house tomorrow, so then?"_

In the dining room, her other sisters were gathering around the table. Her parents came in, her mom putting her hands on her hips and looking at the table, which was set and laid with buns, condiments, and toppings: Fresh lettuce, tomato, and onion. "Wow, Leni," she said, "I didn't expect you to make dinner."

Leni shrugged. "I wanted to."

As she ate, her siblings chattering around her, Lynn thought of the upcoming...uh...event, and her stomach clenched with nerves. Would he even be interested? She assumed he would be. She and Amber were hot and older, what more could a goofy looking fourteen-year-old boy want? Unless he was a weirdo.

Wouldn't it be awkward if they got him alone only to find out he was gay too? _Sorry, ladies,_ she imagined him saying, _but I'm strictly dickly_. She couldn't help but chuckle, and some of her burger went down the wrong tube. She coughed.

"You alright?" Leni asked worriedly. She was sitting to Lynn's right.

"Yeah, I'm –"

Leni reached out and slapped her on the back. Ow. It stung.

"I'm fine, really."

"You sure?" Leni asked, her voice uncertain and her eyes muddled with concern. "I know the Heimlich Maneuverer."

"Really, I'm okay, see? I'm talking and breathing."

"Okay." Leni leaned back in her chair and picked up her burger. "So, does anybody wanna see a movie later? My treat!"

"That sounds fun," dad said, "what's playing?"

"I wanna see _To Know His Sisters_ ," Lola said without looking up from her plate.

"Barf," Lana said. "I don't wanna see some stupid romance. I wanna see a horror movie."

"There's _Dark as Night,_ " Lucy said. "That has a vampire."

"Is it a scary vampire or a sparkling fairy vampire?" Lana asked.

"Scary."

"What about a comedy?" Luna asked. "There's _Butt-Munch: The Movie."_

"I don't think Beaver and Butt-Munch are appropriate for children," mom said.

Luna looked at her. "How do you know?"

"It's based on a '90s show," dad said, gesturing to mom and then himself, "we were around then."

"Oh. It looks funny."

"Beaver and Butt-Munch are _very_ funny," mom said, "but not for kids."

"Remember the one where they got their...uh...caught in a pool filter?" dad asked.

Mom laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. She slapped the table, and everyone looked at her like she was crazy. "What about the one where that girl they were going after turned out to be a man?"

"Crude and infantile humor does not appeal to me," Lisa said. "What about a trip to the museum?"

"We can do that too!" Leni said.

Lynn silently watched her sister; Leni's face glowed and her eyes shone. She looked so happy to be among her family.

* * *

They crossed into Iowa on I-80 at 5 that afternoon, fording the Mississippi River at the town of Davenport. Flat, dusty farmland fell away from either side of the highway. Lincoln saw fields, pastures, homesteads, and sky...pretty much all that there _was_ to see; he'd heard Iowa was flat and rural, but this was insane. It made Royal Woods look like Manhattan on New Year's Eve.

He and Luan had been silently holding hands for nearly a hundred miles, the radio and A/C on. The former worked well considering the van's age. The latter, however, struggled to cool the stagnant air. At one point Lincoln said fuck it and rolled his window down. The air rushing in was dry and hot, but it was better than the stale fart wind blasting out of the vents. Luan started to tell him to close it, annoyed, but caught herself.

"You know what?" he asked at one point.

"What, love?"

"If you want...we can settle down right here." He gestured with his chin out the window. A sea of dry brown grass rolled away to a dilapidated farmhouse with peeling white paint. "Live on a farm, raise pigs and chickens..." he looked at her with a little grin. "Fuck in the hayloft."

She giggled. "I do _not_ want to live in the middle of nowhere. Royal Woods was bad enough."

"Where exactly do you want to live?" he asked. "I mean...next door to Disneyland? L.A.? San Francisco?"

"Hmmm. I haven't really thought about it," she said. "I was thinking L.A. Lots of comedy clubs. And movie studios." She glanced at him.

He shrugged. "Yeah, that's a plus. You'll be famous within a year in L.A."

"I don't think it'll happen _that_ quickly," she said, "but it _will_ happen, because I am awesome." She mugged for him, and he laughed.

"I can't argue with that. You're a comedy genius." Maybe 'genius' was too strong a word, but she _was_ funny.

At 6, they stopped at a restaurant west of Walcott called Justin's. It was shaped like a barn. Hell, maybe it _was_ a barn at one point. Inside, everything was gleaming oak: The tables, the chairs, the walls, the ceiling, the salad bar. Lofts on either side were crammed with fake hay (at least Lincoln _thought_ it was fake), and he nudged Luan's arm. "Up for a quickie?" he asked, pointing.

"As long as I can be on top," she said, "I'm not getting hay in _my_ butthole."

"Aw, come on," he asked as they sat. "Where's your spirit of adventure?"

Before she could answer, a waitress in overalls and a straw hat came over and sat two menus on the table. Lincoln took one look at her and had to turn away so she wouldn't see him fighting back laughter. He'd heard of humiliating uniforms, but this was too much.

"Can I get ya'll something to drink?"

"Coffee," Luan said.

"Coke."

"Alrighty then," she said, "I'll be back to take your order."

When she was gone, Luan leaned across the table, a smile dancing in her eyes. "Did you see that stupid outfit?"

"Oh, I saw it," Lincoln said. "Wish I hadn't, though."

She glanced over her shoulder; their waitress was talking to a man dressed similarly. "I wouldn't wear that shit for a million dollars." She looked back at him and took his hands across the table. "Unless I _wanted_ people to laugh."

"They have to play up the country angle," Lincoln said. "You know, sell it to the tourists. Doesn't look like they have much else going for them."

The pictures in the menu were of bland, generic food. Liver and onions, chicken fried steak with gravy, pulled pork sandwiches (the pork looking especially anemic this evening), and fish. Their burger selection sucked too. You had the classic (lettuce, tomato, onion) and the Pig Pen: Two patties, two strips of bacon, battered onions, American cheese, pulled pork, and BBQ sauce. It looked grody as fuck, and sloppy too.

"I don't know," Luan said, "the pulled pork looks alright."

"Looks like it's been dead and buried six months," Lincoln said, "but if you want food poisoning, be my guest."

"What about you? You getting the Pig Pen?"

Lincoln crinkled his nose. "Fuck that."

"Figures."

"What?"

She shook her head. She _was_ going to say he was too much of a little boy to handle it, but she realized how cruel that sounded, even as a joke. Instead, she said, "You have no spirit of adventure."

"I have _plenty_ spirit of adventure," he said.

"You know what?" she asked, leaning close.

"What?" He leaned close too.

"You're full of shit," she whispered, and pecked his lips.

He leaned back, wiping his lips, and she laughed. The waitress came back then and sat their drinks down. "Coffee for you, hun, and Coke for you. You guys ready to order?"

"I'm ready," Luan said, and looked at Lincoln.

"Yeah, me too."

She ordered a pulled pork sandwich and he got a classic burger. While they waited, Luan took a laminate booklet from a rack next to the ketchup and hot sauce, and read it. "Justin's was founded in 1969 by Dave and Justin Caldwell, father and son pit masters from Daytona Beach, Florida, who believed that BBQ is best cooked low and slow..."

As she talked, Lincoln watched a rush of people enter the nearly deserted dining room. A fat woman with a little girl about four, a man in a plaid shirt, a man in a suit and sunglasses. They spread out, the woman and the little girl sitting several tables down from Lincoln and Luan, the trucker (or was he a farmer?) sitting in the next row over, and the man in the suit taking a single table by the men's room and looking nervously around.

"...all of our meat is smoked for fifteen hours in our special smoker to give it the classic Justin's taste you've come to expect. You deserve it. Hm." She closed the booklet and replaced it. "They sure talk a big game."

"We'll see," Lincoln said, looking at her. "They're probably fuller of shit than you are."

Luan laughed. "You're a jackass."

"I'm hung like one."

"Pfffft! Please! You aren't _that_ big."

Lincoln felt his skin crawling. He looked up. The man in the suit was staring at him, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses. _The fuck are_ you _looking at_? He thought.

"I'm big enough," he said, looking back at Luan.

"Hey, I'm not complaining." She batted her eyelashes. "In fact, I could use a nice sausage _Linc_ tonight."

Lincoln grinned and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Hayloft's that way."

"I thought you didn't want anyone to watch."

"No one will see," he said, looking over his shoulder. "We just have to get up there."

"I'd rather we do it in a bed." She leaned in with half-lidded eyes. "I plan to spend a lot of time on my knees."

The waitress returned with their food before he could reply. "Here you go," she said, putting their plates in front of them. "Can I get ya'll anything?"

"No, thank you," Luan said.

"I'm good," Lincoln replied.

"Alright. Enjoy."

She went away, and Lincoln picked up his burger, his stomach rumbling. It _looked_ good. For that matter, Luan's sandwich looked a lot better than the one in the picture. She took a bite. "How is it?" he asked.

She nodded and held a hand up to cover her mouth. "It's alright," she said. Lincoln took a bite of his burger, flavor flooding his mouth. It wasn't the best he'd ever had, but it would get the job done.

By mutual consent, they hurriedly ate, loath to waste time. After dinner, they needed to gas up. Luan wanted to make another hundred miles before getting a room: She didn't like driving at night.

When they were done, Luan went up to the counter to pay while Lincoln made a pit stop in the bathroom. The man in the suit reaching into his coat and looking pointedly away from him. Still, Lincoln could feel his eyes on him, and he became suddenly uncomfortable.

In the bathroom, he used one of the urinals and washed his hands. In the dining room, Luan was waiting by the door with her arms crossed. "You ready?" she asked.

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder. The man in the suit was still watching him.

"Y-Yeah."

In the van, Lincoln started to tell Luan about the man, but stopped, realizing he was being paranoid. So someone stared at him in a restaurant. If he had a dollar for every time that happened, he and Luan would be set for life. Even the most innocent things seem sinister when you have a guilty conscious, he thought.

A few miles later, they stopped at a gas station, and both went in, Lincoln grabbing a soda and a bag of chips. He found Luan in a middle aisle, looking thoughtfully at a bottle. "What's that?" he asked as he walked up.

"For later." She showed him. KY.

He grinned. "What do you need that for? You make plenty of your own lube."

She was starting to walk away, but stopped and looked sexily over her shoulder. "Yeah, but my butt doesn't."

Lincoln suddenly felt very warm, and his worries about the man in the suit melted away.

What man in a suit?

* * *

Wayne DiRosario passed through Davenport, Iowa, at shortly past 5 on Sunday afternoon, his eyelids heavy and his stomach growling. He shoved a handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth, but they did little more than tease him. He needed real food. And a nap. He checked his watch, saw the time, and shook his head. He was making great time; if he kept up like this, he'd catch up to them long before California. Maybe as soon as Nebraska. He yawned, and blinked rapidly. Could he afford dinner and sleep?

 _Killers. Criminals. Killers. Criminals._

Whether he could afford it or not, he _needed_ it.

Decided, he waited until he saw a blue FOOD, FUEL, LODGINGS sign, and took the following exit, the off-ramp curving away and running past a restaurant shaped like a barn. JUSTIN'S the sign out front said. Looked like a rib joint. Wayne liked ribs; when he ate them, he liked pretending that they belonged to criminals he'd burned at the stake. It made them so much better.

He slid into a spot in front and cut the engine, killing The Monkees in the middle of "Daydream Believer." He rubbed his grainy eyes and got out, a bolt of pain snaking up his back. Hissing through clenched teeth, he put a hand against his spine and stretched. His butt and legs were stiff and numb as well. At 57, he was getting too old to sit in a car for long periods of time.

57\. Wow. Where did the time go? Seemed like just yesterday he was in his twenties.

Feeling anicnet, he shuffled to the door, falling in behind a group of people. A fat woman. A little girl. A big man in a plaid shirt. The woman opened the door and held it for Mr. Plaid and Wayne. Wayne nodded his thanks and stepped into the dining room, throwing a cautious glance around. He didn't see killers crouched in any of the corners or in the hayloft, and relaxed a little. Just a normal roadside BBQ shack. No killers here.

A sign by the door said SEAT YOURSELVES, SEVER WILL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY. He spotted a table by the men's room and crossed to it, sitting with a sigh, his back clenching. He looked nervously around just in case he missed a killer, then started to take off his sunglasses, but froze when he saw Lincoln and Luan Loud sitting in a booth, her reading from a booklet and him staring at her with a smile on his face.

 _KILLERS! CRIMINALS! KILLERS! MOMMY'S BACK!_

 _No, it can't be._

He blinked, expecting them to vanish like a windswept mirage, but they remained. Lincoln was looking at him, and Wayne's heart stopped.

 _I'm coming for you,_ those dark eyes said, _son._

Wayne swallowed and looked away. When a waitress spoke at his elbow, he started.

"Sorry," she said with a little laugh, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You're fine," Wayne said with a strained smile, his hand resting above his racing heart.

"Can I start you off with something to drink?"

Wayne looked past her. Lincoln was lost in mother's eyes, a stupid little grin on his face. _He's over there right now. Watching us._ "Uh...sweet tea, please."

"Alright," she said. While he waited for her to return, he opened a menu and pretended to scan it while watching Lincoln and Luan over the tops of his glasses. They were eating now, a burger for him and...a sandwich for her. He said something and she nodded, covering her mouth with her hand.

 _He's such a loser, huh?_

"Shut up, Lincoln," Wayne growled.

The waitress came back with his tea. "You ready to order?"

Wayne hadn't even looked at the menu. "Do you have BLTs?" he asked.

She nodded. "We sure do. Best in all of Iowa."

"I'll take one. Don't toast the bread."

"Alright, I'll have that right out to you."

As Wayne drank his tea, he watched the two killers, his eyes narrowed to slits. The revolver under his left arm burned against his skin. _Take me out take me out take me out._ He could draw it and shoot both of them in seconds, and it would all be over. Something stopped him, though, a force that he couldn't see. He didn't have to see it to know what it was: Mother's telepathy. His hand twitched, but he could not raise it.

 _Take the gun out,_ she said, _and put it in your mouth..._

"No."

 _...pull the trigger..._

" _No."_

They finished their food and got up to leave. When Lincoln started toward him, Wayne's stomach knotted. He looked quickly away and stuck his hand into his coat, unclipping the strap across the revolver's handle. As Lincoln drew closer, Wayne's entire body started to tinge as if in expectation of a blow. Instead of attacking him, however, the boy went into the bathroom, and Wayne let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Mother stood by the door, looking like someone else, her arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a thin white dress and blue tennis shoes. Her rust colored hair was in a ponytail that hung down her neck. Wayne couldn't tell if she was staring at him full on, but he could feel her hateful eyes boring into him nonetheless.

 _Failure. Stupid. Coming for you._

Wayne tightened his grip on the handle. All he had to do was pull it out and aim...

The bathroom door opened and Lincoln came out, walking purposely. Mother went out the door first, Lincoln following, his hand touching the small of her back in a protective gesture. The door closed behind them, and they were gone, Wayne fighting to catch his breath.

 _KILLERS! CRIMINALS! GETTING AWAY!_

With trembling fingers, he took out he wallet, slapped a twenty on the table, and left, getting outside just as the van merged into traffic. Rushing now, he jumped into the Jeep, threw it into reverse, and followed, his tires burning against the pavement. He shot out onto the access road in front of a red Ford, which beeped its horn, and raced along the narrow lane. His chest was tight and his stomach rolling. He turned onto the on-ramp without waiting for the light to change and almost collided with a Kia Soul. They were seven car-lengths ahead of him, maintaining a slow and steady pace beside a tractor trailer.

 _I'm coming for you_ , Wayne thought, his teeth grinding. _I'm coming..._

At the next exit, a rush of cars pulled onto the highway, and he had to slow down to avoid hitting them. "Come on! Come on!" He accelerated and whipped in front of a blue car, switched lanes, then raced past a white car. Ahead, the interstate curved, and when he rounded the bend, Lincoln and Luan were gone.

"Goddamn it!"

* * *

They stopped at a motel a hundred miles west of Des Moines as twilight cooled to night. It was nearly identical to the previous one: L-shaped, brick, slate roof. Moths danced around the lamps outside each room like moats in sunshine. Luan went into the office, got the room, and came back out. She was walking funny. "My back is killing me," she explained when she saw him looking at her strange. "At least it's not _my_ fault," he said.

"That comes later," she said and winked. She piloted the van into a spot outside the last room along the walkway and killed the engine. "I can't _wait_ to get in the shower."

"Me either." Then he added: "At a different time than you."

Luan started to say something, then shrugged. "Whatever."

He carried the bags in and sat them on the table by the window. The carpet was green, an old TV from the seventies (are those rabbit ears? What the fuck?) sat in a corner, and the walls were covered in ugly floral wallpaper. There was a strange, musky smell in the air that made Lincoln's nose crinkle. He bent over the bed and sniffed the coverlet. It wasn't that, thank God. He checked under the beds, but saw nothing. Thank God for that too. He saw something one time (was it on TV or the internet?) about dead bodies being a common "overlooked item" in American hotel rooms. The maids came in, dusted, cleaned the toilets, and made the beds, but somehow managed to miss the bloated corpse rotting underneath, or in the closet. A week later a guest would go to investigate the foul, sickly sweet odor in their room and find Tarman from _The Return of the Living Dead_ staring back at them with wide eyes, grinning teeth, and skin turned to black slime. Lincoln shuddered. He checked the little walk-in closet, but aside from an ironing board and an iron, it was empty.

While Luan used the bathroom, he took off his shoes and stretched out on the bed, turning the TV on. The picture was staticky, but he didn't care. There were only five channels: NBC, Fox, ABC, CBS, and PBS. He didn't care about that either; he left it on a _Seinfeld_ rerun and sat the remote on his chest. Luan came out, letting her hair down and running her fingers through it, and climbed onto the bed. She took the remote, sat it aside, and curled up next to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead.

"It's nice to be in your arms," she said lowly.

"It's nice to have you in my arms," he said, and it was. Her warmth, her presence, her bare arm under his hand and her hand over his heart – all of that was better than any of the sex they had ever had. "You know...I think this is what I missed the most when we were at home."

"Me too."

 _Seinfeld_ gave way to an episode of _The Simpsons_ older than both of them combined. Lincoln couldn't say why, but he was reminded of his own family, and for the first time since leaving Royal Woods yesterday morning, he felt a faint sense of loss. Fuck his parents, he could do without seeing them again, but his sisters...yeah, he missed them. Already. Leni and Lori would be home for summer break by now. He wondered how they were handling them being gone, hell, how _all_ of them were handling it. Were they mad at them? Were they upset?

"Lincoln?"

He looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"I love you," she said with a dreamy smile.

"I love you too," he replied. She scooted up and they kissed. No matter how many times they did this, Lincoln felt a jolt of electricity when his tongue touched hers, and when they moved delicately together, touching and caressing like sensuous lovers, his body tingled pleasantly. Her soft lips, her warm breath, and the taste of her mouth were intoxicating, a spirit that Lincoln could drink until drunk. When the kiss broke, she stared at him with wide, loving eyes. "You ready?"

"For?" he asked dreamily.

Instead of answering him, she got up, went over to the table, and grabbed something. She knelt on the bed and gave him a devilish smile. When Lincoln saw what she was holding, he remembered, and his member hardened.

"Come on, Linc," she pouted, "put it in my butt?"

He shrugged. "Eh...if you insist."

"You know you want it."

He sat up and pulled his pants down, his underwear clad erection replying for him. A little grin tugged at the corners of Luan's mouth. She pulled her own underwear down and kicked them off; they landed in a heap by the dresser.

"Don't lose those," Lincoln said, "you might have a conniption fit tomorrow." He was kneeling in front of her now, still in his briefs.

"It wasn't a conniption fit," she said, "I was just frustrated." She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. "Now pop my chocolate cherry."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "That's not a very hot way to put it."

She shrugged and handed him the KY. "Use lots of it." With that, she bent over, propped now on her hands and knees, her dress still covering her rear. Lincoln admired the backs of her thighs; he ran his hand up one of them, and she shivered. "That tickles."

He did it again. "Stop!" she laughed.

He loved the sound of her laughter.

Kneeling behind her, he pulled off his briefs and pushed them off the bed. He was actually kind of nervous; he'd made love to Luan many times now (and had rough, dirty sex with her too), but this...this was new, and new things always made him a little anxious. He lifted her shirt up. She was spread, her pink, puckered butthole seeming to wink at him. He imagined it doing so, and laughed.

"What?" she asked, looking back.

"It's winking at me."

"It's trying to seduce you."

Lincoln unscrewed the cap and squeezed some of the gel onto his fingers. He massaged it into his member, then slathered some on Luan's...uh...third eye (was it blind?). "They say if you think you've used enough, use more," she said.

He squirted a massive amount of the stuff into his palm and coated himself in it until it was dripping onto the cover, then he put more on his sister. "Alright," he said, "let's do it."

He grabbed her hips and positioned himself, his tip pressing against her warm lips. He grabbed his penis with one hand, angled it up, and pushed it against her hole. She jumped. "I'm not even in yet," he laughed.

"You just surprised me."

Holding his penis firmly, he pressed against her, his head squeezing to get in and her body instinctively squeezing to keep him out. He tilted his hips back, and pushed with slightly more force. He penetrated her, and she let out a long, hissing "Ahhhhhhhh!" Lincoln himself gasped as her rear walls clamped down on him. He slowly eased the rest of himself in, then pulled back and slid forward once more, her body seeming to resign itself to its fate and unclenching.

"Go slow," she gasped. She held the blanket in handfuls, her eyes squeezed closed. The sensation was strange, almost like she had to poop. His throbbing cock pulsed against her walls, and she felt so full that she imagined she might rip in half if he went too fast. He pulled out, and came forward again, his crowned head scraping slowly against her. He found a steady rhythm, and she began to relax, each thrust sending pangs of pain and pleasure into her damp core. She reached down and rubbed her clit while slowly rocking her hips back and forth, liking the way he grazed along her walls. He was going deeper now, right to the base, and she rubbed faster, faster, furiously; her hand cramped but she didn't care. She had to cum, had to lose herself to the agony and ecstasy, had to finish with her brother deep in her ass, his balls lightly slapping the V-shaped bottom of her femininity.

As he thrusted, Lincoln fixed his eyes on the profile of his sister's face, the way her mouth moved in grunting, wordless gasps of pleasure, the way her ponytail swished with each forward slide, the way her shoulder blades flexed under the fabric of her dress. She was Cleopatra, Aphrodite, Venus, his goddess, his queen, a vision of beauty and the keeper of his heart and soul. She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed with passion, and he felt his climax rushing toward him at full force. He grabbed her hips, thrusted as deeply into her as he could go, and filled her with his seed. She cried out and fell face-first onto the mattress, her body shaking.

Lincoln held on for dear life as wave after wave of total euphoria crashed over him. When it was over, he pulled out, his knees shaky and his back aching. He flopped down next to his sister, who faced him, her rear still in the air. Sweaty hair hung in her closed eyes.

"That was fun," she panted and smiled.

His heart overflowed with love for her, and he laid a trembling hand on her face. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too." She took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. They stayed that way for a long time, simply staring at each other, loving each other...

* * *

Wayne DiRosario found the Loud family van in the parking lot of a motel east of Des Moines. He almost didn't see it from the highway, but at the last second, he glanced over, and there it was, the light of an arch sodium lamp falling over it like a sign from God. He took the next exit and followed an access road to the motel's entrance, his heart beginning to race. He pulled in behind it and checked the license plate number against the number Lynn Loud had given him.

They matched.

Bingo.

He backed into a spot across from the van and killed the engine. He lit a Kool and rolled down the window, the smoke like vapor in the humid June air.

 _Killers. Criminals._

When he was done, he got out, went around back, and took the M4 from the cargo compartment. Behind the wheel, he sat it in the passenger seat and waited. It was 10pm. At 12, he would strike, kicking their room door open and spraying them both with his righteous fury. He didn't know why 12, but it seemed appropriate.

While he waited, his eyes grew heavy. At 10:30, he fell asleep.

And slept through the night.


	8. Come and Go

Monday morning. Lynn Loud sat on the back porch and keyed the McBride's home phone number into her cell, faint butterfly wings tickling the inside of her stomach. It was a bright, still day, golden rays of warm sunshine trickling through the treetops, and she had been up since just before dawn rehearsing what she was going to say. She didn't know if Clyde would be interested, or if he would even be available. Part of her hoped he would be...but another part hoped that he wouldn't; she wasn't one to be anxious, but here, now, dialing the number, she was.

She put the phone to her ear and let it ring five times, her hands shaking. She was just about to give in and hang up when a male voice filled the line. "McBride residence."

Lynn opened her mouth to speak, but her voice cracked. "Uh, is Clyde there?"

"Yes. Hold on."

For a few long moments the line was silent, then Clyde spoke, his firm voice edged with wariness. "Hello?"

"H-Hey, Clyde," she said, "it's Lynn. Lynn Loud."

"Oh," he said, warming but still bemused. "How's it going?"

"Good. I was just wondering" – here she rubbed the back of her neck – "if you'd want to hang with me and Amber later. We got a game and we, uh, we need a third person."

A long, thoughtful silence followed. Lynn's heart pounded. "Sure, why not? I'm not very good at sports but I'll try."

"That's okay," she said, her throat constricting. "It's easy."

"Alright. What time?"

"Noon?"

"Yeah, that works."

"Alright. Meet us by the playground in the park."

"Okay," he said. "See ya."

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and drew a heavy sigh. Well, that was done. All that was left was to actually _do_ him: She didn't know if that was the easy part or the hard part.

Trying to decide, she got up and went into the kitchen. Leni was standing in front of the stove and humming, the sound of popping grease and the smell of bacon filling the kitchen. A plate laden with crispy brown strips sat by the sink. Lynn thought briefly of sneaking up and taking one, but that talk about stabbing people and shit yesterday kind of creeped her out. She loved her sister dearly, but it wasn't all that long ago that Leni choked Luan unconscious, and would have killed her if Lori hadn't walked in. Where paranoia lurked, there was always the capability of violence.

Lynn started for the living room just as Lori came in, yawning. Her hair was sticking out and dark bags hung under her eyes. "Hey," she said absently to Lynn, then stopped, sniffing the air. She turned, and Leni smiled at her. "Hi, Lori!"

"It's _literally_ the butt crack of dawn...and you're cooking."

Leni shrugged. "My family needs breakfast."

Lori opened her mouth but stopped. "True. _I'm_ sure as hell not going to make it."

"You look like you should probably go back to bed," Leni said seriously.

"Can't sleep," Lori said, opening the fridge and reaching in; she took out a glass of orange juice.

Upstairs, Lynn sat on her bed and shot a text to Amber. Under the covers, Lucy stirred and muttered in her sleep. Last night, they saw _Dark as Night,_ and the vampire in it was so scary even Lynn walked out with an elevated heartrate. Though Lucy fancied herself an aficionado of the macabre, she was so scared she spent more time looking away from the screen than _at_ it. Amber texted back, and shortly Lucy woke, rubbing her head.

"Bad dream?" Lynn asked.

"No," Lucy lied. Lynn knew she was lying because she said it too quickly, and she had a bad habit of doing that when she was lying. She and Lynn had been roommates their entire lives; to her, Lucy was an open book, as she was to Lucy.

"Remember when the vampire broke the kitchen window and crawled through like a spider?" Lynn asked mischievously. "And his face was all rotted and dead...?"

Was it Lynn's imagination, or did a chill run through Lucy. "That part was awesome." This time she ran her words together, another thing she did when she wasn't telling the truth.

Downstairs, Lynn ate her breakfast while mom and dad praised Leni's initiative. Lynn didn't know about that, but she did know that the food was on point. "Where'd you learn to cook?" Lynn asked. "I remember when you used to burn water."

Leni laughed and waved her hand. "You're silly, Lynn. I never burned water, that was _Lori_ who burned water."

Everyone chuckled as Lori looked up from her plate. It was true. One time she made beans and franks, but it was more like beans and _rank_ (good one, Lynn, Lynn told herself). Waaaaay too much garlic.

"That's another reason I don't make breakfast for you guys," Lori said, "you got jokes." She forked a piece of egg and lifted it to her mouth, but it dropped, splattering her shirt yellow.

"And you got _yokes_ ," Lynn said.

"Okay, Luan," Lori blurted. Everyone looked uncomfortable and the atmosphere, light and airy just moments ago, clouded with darkness.

When breakfast was over, Lynn volunteered to wash the dishes, and Lucy offered to dry. They stood side-by-side at the sink, one with a sponge, the other with a dish towel.

"Do you think they'll come back on their own?" Lucy asked as she dried a plate. She didn't look up.

"I don't know," Lynn said at length. "I mean...maybe." She certainly didn't see them _never_ coming back. She also didn't see them rushing back any time soon unless something bad happened. Not only was their love forbidden, they had stolen a lot of money _and_ the van. The shame from that alone, when it set it, would probably be enough to keep them away for a _long_ time.

That made her chest hurt.

"I hope they do," Lucy said. "I know Lincoln and Luan weren't really themselves before they left, but I still miss them. And...mom said they could be together...so things will go back to the way they used to be, right?"

Lynn sighed. "Maybe."

Lucy gave her a sidelong look. She and Lynn had been roommates their entire lives. Lynn was an open book to her, as she was to Lynn; Lynn had a bad habit of sighing before a lie...

* * *

Lincoln carried the bags to the van while Luan showered. The day was bright and already hot at 8am; across the highway, a flat field dotted with trees stretched into forever, hazy dust hanging over it.

The parking lot was fuller than it had been the night before. He saw a black Altima, a white Chevy Titan, and a green Jeep, its nose facing him. He wondered how much business a place like this got. Sure, it was right on the interstate, but there was literally nothing for miles in any direction. Except Des Moines, and that didn't really count for much, did it?

Inside, he sank onto the bed and stared at the TV. _Good Morning America_ was on. Robert Irvine, with his massive, bulging arms, was demonstrating how to make some fancy dish that most normal people would never taste, and some blonde floozy with a fake smile permanently plastered to her face nodded and looked from the food to the camera and back again in an endless cycle of gaping amazement.

The shower cut off, and a minute later, Luan came out, a towel wrapped around her body. Lincoln looked at her, and nodded appreciatively. "You're gonna make me horny walking around like that."

"Oh?" she asked, a playful hilt to her voice. "Should I lose the towel?" She bent one knee to the side and put her hands on her hips.

"At your own risk."

The towel hit the floor, pooling around her feet. Lincoln's eyes instantly went to the V pointing down her stomach to her sex, his tongue flicking across his lower lip. She strutted over to him and sat in his lap, putting her arms around his neck and leaning close. "You know I just took a shower, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you want to get me all dirty?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

She ran her fingertips through his hair, her eyes wide and filled with love.

Then she shoved him back and mounted him. "You better make this quick, Lincoln Loud. We gotta go." She winked.

"I can be quick," he said, "what about you?"

"Wanna race?"

"Uh...okay." He unzipped his pants and pulled them and his underwear down in one yank. Luan shifted her hips and sheathed him in her hot, sultry channel; she bit her lips and stared sexily down at him. "Squeeze the fuck out of my tits."

"Okay." He reached up, grabbed both of her tits, and squeezed as hard as he could as she began to rock.

"Pinch my nipples."

He did, and she yelped, rocking faster, her slick walls pulsating against him. A part of him wanted to get her off...but a part of him wanted to cum first...what should he do?

Fuck it. She said it was a race.

He shot his arms under her shoulders, drew her close, and kissed her, the taste of her mouth, the clean smell of her hair, and the violent gyrating of her hips combining to push him over the edge: He shot deep into her, widening until he strained against her. She gasped into his mouth as her body seized, her muscles tightening around his throbbing penis.

He broke the kiss and whispered in her ear, "I win."

"Fuck you," she chuckled and pushed herself up.

In fifteen minutes, she was dressed in a blue romper that bared her shoulders and came down her legs just far enough that you couldn't see what was between them. "Where'd you get _that?"_ he asked.

"Leni gave it to me when she left for Chicago." She sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair. "I never wore it because...I don't know...I guess...it felt too happy, you know? And I wasn't happy."

Lincoln's heart broke. He put his arms around her shoulders from behind and kissed her neck. "You look sexy in it."

"Thank you. I _want_ to look sexy for you."

"You could wear a burlap sack and still be sexy, but this is good too."

She finished brushing her hair and started to put it in a ponytail, but Lincoln stopped her. "No, leave it down. It looks really good."

She looked at him. Her hair, so soft and full, spilled down her shoulders, framing her face like a wedding veil. "You think so?"

He nodded, his heart plodding. "I am _dumbfounded_ by your beauty."

"No, you're just dumb," she laughed, and kissed his cheek. "Come on. Let's get started. I wanna get out of Iowa today."

Outside, they climbed into the van, Luan taking his hand in hers. "I don't know how much more of this my butt can handle."

"The seat...or my dick?" Lincoln asked slyly.

"The seat."

Lincoln shrugged. "It's going to have to take a lot. It's a big country. Lot of open roads between here and Cali."

Luan sighed. "I know. That's the problem."

She threw the van into reverse, backed out of the spot, and drove onto the highway. Behind them, a green Jeep Grand Cherokee pulled out of its spot and followed...

* * *

Lynn met Amber at the end of her street. She was wearing a pair of gym shorts, tennis shoes, and a simple black T-shirt...a simple outfit Lynn thought, but she still looked sexy as hell. When Lynn saw her, she grinned and waved. "Hey, babe," Amber said, and they kissed, sharing a smile between them. "You ready for this?"

Lynn sighed. "Yeah."

"You're nervous, huh?"

Lynn shook her head, and Amber put her hands on her hips. "Come on, Loud, we've been together three years. I know you. You're nervous."

Lynn rolled her eyes. _I'm an open book to Lucy_ and _Amber, I guess_. "Yes. I'm nervous."

Amber clapped Lynn on the arm. "It's okay. I'm nervous too."

Hand-in-hand, they started for the park. In the past few hours, the temperature had risen, and the heat of the day was almost uncomfortable. By the time they reached their destination, Lynn's brow and palm were both sweaty. A gang of kids played on the equipment, squealing with laughter. She scanned the sidewalk, and saw Clyde sitting on a bench, his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms resting on the bench's back. When he caught sight of them, he nodded.

"Hey, Lynn," he said.

"Hey," she said. Realizing he had never been introduced to Amber, she said, "this is my girlfriend, Amber."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"You too."

An awkward silence followed. "So...what's this game you guys wanna play?"

"Well...actually, we're gonna head back to Amber's place and play," Lynn said, hoping her voice sounded as smooth and free of nerves to him (and Amber) as it did to her.

Clyde shrugged. "Alright." He got up and stretched. "Lead the way."

They walked three across down the sidewalk, Lynn letting go of Amber's hand because, seriously, the sweat was starting to get gross. A not entirely easy silence hung over them. Lynn racked her brain for something to say.

Thankfully, Clyde spoke first. "So, how's Lincoln?"

The mention of her brother's name sent a ripple of pain through her chest. It made sense that he didn't know, but for some reason Lynn expected him to. "Well...he and Luan ran away on Saturday."

"What?" Clyde asked, whipping his head around.

Lynn nodded. "They took the van."

"You're shitting me." His eyes were wide and his jaw slack.

Lynn shook her head.

"Wow," he said. "Why'd they do it?"

"I-I can't really say. Just don't worry about it."

Clyde started to speak, but inferred from the pained expression on Lynn's face that dropping it really _would_ be best.

"So, Clyde," Amber said, "what do you like to do?"

"Paintball," he said. "I'm big into paintball."

"Yeah?" Amber asked, a note of appreciation in her voice. "Paintball's fun. You have a crew?"

"Yeah, me and some guys from school go out two or three times a month. Sometimes we camp overnight. You know, make an event out of it."

"I always figured you were too soft for something like paintball," Lynn said, only half teasing.

He spread his arms. "Well, people change. I never thought I'd see you holding someone's hand, but here you are. Big bad Lynn Loud tamed at last."

Amber chuckled, and Lynn shot her a dirty look. "I'm not _tamed_."

"Oh...pussywhipped?"

Amber laughed out loud. "Yes, she is."

"I am not!" Lynn cried, her cheeks blushing.

"I have her wrapped around my little finger," Amber said, nudging Lynn in the ribs. "I say jump and she asks how high."

"Fuck you, bitch," Lynn said sullenly; she couldn't _entirely_ suppress a smile, though. She _was_ kind of pussywhipped. And she liked it.

They turned onto Amber's street. Her house was the fifth one down, the yard enclosed by a chain-link fence. In the living room, Amber shut the door and Clyde looked around. "An old woman lives here, doesn't she? Or is it a gay man?"

"My grandma," Amber said, kicking her shoes off. Lynn did likewise.

"My dads have similar tastes."

"You have two dads?" Amber asked.

"Yeah. I mean...they obviously aren't my _real_ parents, I'm adopted, but...yeah, they're my dads and I love them."

"That's cool." She gave Lynn a sidelong glance and nodded toward her room. Lynn nodded.

"This way, Clyde," Lynn said, and Clyde followed.

In Amber's room, Clyde stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorframe. Amber went over to her desk and opened a drawer. Clyde did not see what she took out, but Lynn did: A condom.

"Have a seat, McBride," Amber said, nodding toward her bed, "you're making me nervous standing there like that."

Clyde shrugged and went over to the bed, sitting, his knees wide apart and his forearms resting on the tops of his thighs. Lynn remained standing, her stomach rolling with nerves.

"So what's this game? What do we need?"

"Well," Amber said, walking over to him, "we need a bat and two balls, but me and Lynn don't have the...necessary equipment. " Lynn's heart was starting to race. She suddenly wondered what Amber would look like as she rode him, and wanted to see _very_ badly.

Clyde's brows furrowed. "What the hell kind of balls are you looking for? You have every ball known to man in - " his mouth snapped shut when Amber pushed him back and mounted him, her knees caging his legs. Her back arched and her butt pointed in the air. Lynn felt her loins beginning to stir.

"There's one kind of ball I _don't_ have," Amber said, looking into his eyes. She ran her hand down his stomach and squeezed his crotch. He let out a shocked gasp. "I-I-I thought you and Lynn were..."

"We are," Amber nodded, "but we decided we wanted to...see what all the fuss is about. Right, babe?"

Lynn nodded.

"And hey, we're both still technically virgins. Might as well get _that_ out of the way. Are you a virgin, Clyde?"

Clyde gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously. His eyes were wide, stricken. "Uhh..."

"You are, aren't you?"

Hesitantly, Clyde nodded.

"Well, today's your lucky day, because you have two _beautiful_ older women who want to have sex with you. Does that sound good, Clyde McBride?"

"Y-Yes."

Amber chuckled. "There's a catch though."

Clyde blinked. "W-What?"

Amber looked at Lynn. "My lovely girlfriend and I are competing with each other. The first one to make you cum gets bragging rights. The catch is: Don't cum with that bitch over there. Cum with _me_."

"Don't cum with her, _she's_ the bitch," Lynn said.

Before Clyde could respond, Amber dipped down and unzipped his jeans. He was wearing black boxers: His pulsing member pushed against the fabric, making a sizeable tent. Amber looked over her shoulder at Lynn with an evil smile. She turned back to Clyde, hooked her fingers into his underwear, and dragged them down. His erection popped free, and Amber marveled at it, from the crowned head to the throbbing vein running down one side. She tentatively reached out and touched it. "It feels weird," she said. Lynn leaned forward to get a better look. It reminded her of a hairless rodent, and she crinkled her face.

"Here, Clyde," Amber said, tossing the condom onto his chest. "Safety first."

With trembling fingers, he ripped open the package and took out the condom. He rolled it down onto himself, but it didn't look right. "I think it's upside down," Amber said.

While Clyde rolled it the other way and fought to get it on, Amber stripped naked, a smile touching Lynn's lips. "You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," Clyde said.

"I'm gonna make you a man, Clyde," Amber said exaggeratedly. She climbed onto him, and Lynn came over to the edge of the bed, kneeling down just as Amber sank onto his dick. His eyes widened and he drew a sharp intake of breath. A look of pleasure crossed Amber's face, and she let out a little sigh that made Lynn's loins ache. She leaned back and rolled her hips, her taunt stomach and perky breasts forming a sinfully beautiful mosaic. "You can play with my tits if you want," she said breathily.

Licking his lips, Clyde reached up and took her breasts in his hands. He rubbed them slowly, clumsily. Amber threw her head back and increased her speed. Lynn watched, enraptured, her breath coming in short gasps and the crotch of her panties dampening. Seeing her fuck from afar, Lynn was struck by how beautiful she was, how perfect and well-made. That's it, there _must_ be a God, because creatures like Amber Paulson don't just happen.

Clyde was panting, his hands on Amber's hips. Lynn was so caught up in watching her girlfriend that she'd forgotten this was supposed to be a competition. She leaned close to Clyde's ear. "Don't you _dare_ cum with her, I will whip your ass. I mean it, Clyde, don't cum with her."

Amber was rocking faster, faster, one hand threaded through her hair.

"Don't do it, Clyde."

Amber let out a small moan as she came, grinding herself roughly against Clyde. She stopped, sitting tall, her chest rising and falling. "Did you cum?" she asked, and Clyde shook his head.

She sighed. "Alright, you're up, Loud."

Lynn got up, yanked down her shorts and underwear, and waited for Amber to move so that she could mount Clyde. She maneuvered herself so that his head pressed against her opening. "You ready, McBride?" she asked.

Clyde nodded.

Lynn took a deep breath. Here goes. She lowered herself down slowly, the way a girl might lower herself into cold water; his tip parted her lips and sank into her, filling her and straining against the rippling panels of her slick shaft. He bottomed out, and she lifted herself up, her head cocked. It didn't feel much different from a dildo. _That_ was disappointing.

She took him deep inside of her, then let herself fall forward, planting her arms on either side of him. Their faces were inches apart, his eyes wide. She grinned at him and slid her hips down, then up, down, then up, getting faster with each pass. Soon, she was slamming into him, the friction in her sex getting hotter and hotter until fire swept through her stomach. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her. Up and down, up and down, up and down. She could feel her climax approaching. Now she could stop it if she wanted to...now she couldn't; it was a train racing downhill.

Clyde hitched and cried out, his rod growing inside of her before bursting. She could feel his hot passion filling the condom. The sensation threw her into her own orgasm: She clenched her teeth and cried out, Clyde holding her close and jerking his hips spasmodically. Her body trembled as that train passed through her, then fell limp when it was gone.

For a moment she lay limply on top of him, then rolled onto her back; she and Clyde both fought to catch their breath.

"How was it?" Amber asked from the foot of the bed. She was wearing her T-shirt and her underwear.

"Fucking _awesome_ ," Clyde said.

"It was okay. Not a whole lot different from the toys."

"Yeah," Amber said, "I think it was the condom. You have to be skin-to-skin to get the full effect."

"You wanna do it again sometime?" Lynn asked.

Amber shrugged. "We could. I just had him put it on in case he came too soon, but, I mean, I'm kind of impressed he made it through both of us." She looked at Clyde. "You wanna do this again?"

"Totally," he said dreamily.

"Lynn?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah. I wanna see how much different the _real_ thing is."

"You get to come back for seconds, you lucky dog," Amber said, and whacked Clyde's leg. "I'm kind of pissed you came with her, though."

"Sorry," he said. "I-I used to have a thing for her. If that makes you feel any better."

Lynn's head whipped around. "What?"

Clyde looked at her, his face blushing. "Yeah. I had a crush on you."

"I thought you were into Lori."

Clyde shrugged. "What, a guy can't have two crushes at the same time?"

"Well, don't fall in love; I'm taken."

"Nah, I'm over it. The sex was good, though. With both of you."

"Thanks," Amber said. "You weren't too bad yourself. For a virgin. Move your hips a little more next time."

Clyde nodded. "If it gets me back in you guys' pants, I'll do whatever you tell me." He winked. "Now, I hate to cum and go, but..."

* * *

 _Failure. Queer. Piece of shit._

Wayne DiRosario stirred, a lightning bolt of pain snaking up his right leg. He winced and tried to move it, but it was heavy and limp.

 _Killers. Criminals. Getting away._

What happened? The last thing he remembered he was waiting to strike and...

...his eyes flew open. Bright morning sunshine flooded the Jeep. He sat up, hissing at the pain in his lower back, and put his hand to his aching head. Across from him, the van sat where it had the night before.

She put him to sleep with her vampire voodoo magic. Had to be. Damn it.

Seething, he threw the door open, got out, and pissed against the Jeep's back bumper. Done, he zipped up his pants and got back behind the wheel. He checked his watch; it was almost eight.

 _Failure. Fell asleep. Stupid._

"Shut up," he growled. "She _put_ me to sleep."

This was getting out of hand. The more time passed, the more powerful she became. Soon, she would be able to kill him with a single thought. He had to end this. Today. Hell, now.

He reached for the M4, but froze when one of the doors along the motel walkway opened, and Lincoln and Mother came out. Mother was dressed extra slutty today in a short dress that left her shoulders bare. Lincoln's eyes crawled lasciviously over her sun-kissed skin. He looked up, and Wayne ducked down, his heart shooting into his throat. Lincoln must not have seen him, for he and Mother got into the van and backed out as though everything was right and normal in the world. Wayne waited until they were out of the parking lot before throwing the Jeep into drive and pulling out behind them. At the motel's entrance, he saw them approaching the highway. He couldn't let them get away again. If he did, Mother would gain strength and he would be done for.

Punching the accelerator, Wayne followed, pulling onto the highway three car-lengths behind, a red Subaru separating them. The trick to tailing a mark was to not let them know you were tailing them. In this case, he didn't have to worry about that because Mother already knew he was there. Still, old habits die hard. When he was on the Detroit police force, he was drilled with enhanced investigative techniques. He lived them, slept them, made love to them.

 _Hurry. Getting away. Killers. Mother. Lincoln._

"They're not getting away," Wayne said tightly, "I know what I'm doing."

 _Failure. Stupid. Kill. Kill. Kill._

Gritting his teeth, Wayne turned on the radio: A happy, up-tempo oldies song flooded from the speakers, and the voice fell silent. Wayne tapped the steering wheel as the highway curved, the van never leaving his sight. It pulled ahead, and he closed the gap, swerving around the Subaru, which honked at him. He felt good. It was almost over. As soon as they stopped, he'd grab the M4 and send them to hell with all the other killers. He flashed a sickly grin as he imagined their bodies jerking and spinning, bullets tearing off chunks of their flesh and ripping away their faces. Should he burn their bodies too? He didn't think he needed to burn Lincoln, but he probably _should_ burn Mother, since she was a voodoo magic vampire.

"I'm coming, Mother," he said, and smiled. "I'm coming for you..."


	9. Showdown

_**Put on something nice**_

 _ **Just in case you die**_

 _ **You'll leave a pretty corpse behind**_

 **\- Don Armando's 2** **nd** **Street Rhumba Band**

 _ **Lights out tonight  
Trouble in the heartland  
Got a head-on collision  
Smashin' in my guts, man,  
I'm caught in a cross fire  
That I don't understand**_

 **\- Bruce Springsteen**

* * *

There's an old rock song whose chorus goes: "You don't know what you got 'til it's gone." While that may be true, it is also true that sometimes, you don't know what you got 'til it's gone and you get it back. Leni Loud realized this on Monday afternoon as she watched her siblings (sans Lynn, who was off with Amber) happily eating ice cream and interacting with one another in the sun washed kitchen, laughing, smiling, talking; presiding over the scene, Leni felt love and affection balloon inside of her until she was certain she was going to pop and spray them all with deflated Leni-pieces.

In a moment of realization, it came to her that _this_ is what she wanted most in life: To be surrounded by her family, the people she knew and loved most, the ones who knew and loved _her_ the most. She let out a dreamy sigh and rested her chin in her hand. She was sitting at the counter; next to her, Lisa was digging into a sundae, her upper lip smeared with ice cream, her manners lost to sugary, frozen bliss. "Are we still going to the museum later?" she asked.

"Of course," Leni said, slipping her arm around Lisa's shoulders and drawing her close, squeezing a breathless _umph_ from the girl.

"Excellent," Lisa said. "I rarely get to go."

"We can go as many times as you want this summer."

Those last two words hitched in Leni's throat: _This summer_. A finite amount of time, barely two months shoved up against another semester of school and being away from her loved ones. She thought of her apartment, of Kristy, of Dave and everyone else she knew, and her stomach ached with something approaching dread.

She didn't want to go back.

She wanted to stay here. Forever. Or at least until she could start her own family. She cast her eyes sadly down at the ice cream melting in a dish before her and took a deep breath. She wanted to go to the Chicago School of Design since she was a little girl; it was the best design school in the country and had produced some of fashion's crème de la crème. If she could only get it, she thought for years and years, then one day she, too, would be famous and rich...and happy, but she _wasn't_ happy, not really. She plodded through the motions of her day like an automaton, a deep, gaping pit in her stomach that she tried desperately to fill but never could. Here, now, in the kitchen of her childhood home, her sisters around her, their voices and musical laughter filling her soul, she _was_ happy.

That revelation plagued her for the rest of the afternoon. She managed to push it to the back of her mind as Lisa led her around the Royal Woods Museum of Natural History, her seven-year-old's giddy happiness barely suppressed, but it was still there, still nagging. Too soon it was over and they were home again. How was time going so fast? Every time Leni glanced at the clock, another hour or two seemed to have passed. Before she knew it, she would have to pack her bags, put them in the car, and let herself be taken back to Chicago. Tears welled in her eyes at the image.

She didn't want to go back.

After dinner, she found her mother in her office at the bottom of the stairs; she was sitting at her desk and going over paperwork, a pair of reading glasses perched precariously on her nose. For a long time, Leni simply leaned against the doorframe, her trembling hand resting against the jamb, and watched, her stomach in knots. She was ashamed at what she was going to say, but when your spirit really _needs_ something, shame doesn't matter. She drew a breath and steeled her nerves. "Hey, mom?" she said.

"Yeah?" mom asked, scanning a sheaf of papers fanned out on the desk and frowning.

"I-I need to talk to you."

The hitch in her voice caught her mother's attention. She turned, a shadow of concern crossing her face. "What about?"

"About..." Leni trailed off, her face burning.

Mom's face softened. "Come here, sweetie," she said, motioning to a chair.

Head slightly bowed, Leni crossed the room and stiffly sat. Her mother leaned over, took her hands in her own, and said, "What's wrong, Leni?"

Leni blinked back tears. "Mom...I don't want to go back to school."

Mom blinked as if struck. "Honey," she drew, "why?"

Leni couldn't bring herself to look into her mother's face. She, and all of her other siblings, had been raised to never give up and to fight for what they wanted. For the longest time Leni fought to go to the Chicago School of Design, and for the longest time, she wanted it more than she wanted anything else. But now...she wanted to be home, with her family.

"I just miss you guys so much, and I'm not happy there. I want to be here with everyone else."

"Oh, baby," mom said, hugging her. "But you're so close to being finished. Just one more year."

"I don't care," Leni said bleakly into the crook of her mother's neck. "I don't care about it anymore. I don't want it." She held back a hot rush of tears.

"I know it's hard, honey," mom said, smoothing the back of Leni's hair, "we miss you and want you back too, but you have to think about your future."

"I _have_ been thinking about my future," Leni said. "I want to be here, with you guys, then I want my own family."

"But you have to have a career, and you love fashion designing so _much_. You might not feel like it right now, and it might not be important to you at the moment, but you _do_ , and you'd be so good at it, Leni."

"So? I'm not happy. Lincoln and Luan are gone and pretty soon everyone else is going to grow up and move away and I'll never see them again." She broke down and started to cry. "I don't have much time left and I don't want to waste it at that stupid school."

Rita Loud rocked her sobbing daughter and cooed to her like a baby, remembering a time when she _was_ a baby. If Leni was right about one thing, it was this: We don't have much time. You might think you have nothing _but_...then you wake up and your babies have babies of their own and the halls of your home, which once rang with the laughter of children, stand quiet, populated only by phantoms of memory.

Leni was incredibly gifted when it came to fashion. Rita knew she would go on to do great things and probably become very famous in the process. The thought of her letting go of that made Rita's heart constrict. Being homesick was normal for a college kid. Rita herself was so homesick during her first two years that she sometimes thought of dropping out much the way Leni was. She stuck with it, and now, with those two dark years long in the past, she was glad she had.

She told Leni this, holding her at arm's length and stroking her hair. The girl's big, childlike eyes shone with unshed tears.

"It hurts now, Leni, but if you drop out, one day you'll regret it. You'll always wonder what could have been."

Leni processed what her mother had told her. "I don't know," she said softly.

"How about this?" Rita said. "If you still want to leave school by the end of the summer, you can. There's a lot of time before you go back...a lot of time for you to get _more_ than your fill of your sisters."

Leni nodded and wiped her eyes. "Okay. That sounds good."

Rita smiled and rubbed Leni's bare arm. "I love you."

"I love you too, mom," Leni replied, and hugged her.

She left with the deal rattling through her brain. She would wait until the end of break to decide. Maybe things would be different then, maybe she would be filled with enough love and happiness to sustain her at least one more semester...maybe she would graduate and start a career after all.

 _Maybe._

* * *

Omaha, Nebraska sits just across the Missouri River from Council Bluffs, Iowa: It is a collection of low buildings rising from gray urban sprawl surrounded by flat, grassy prairieland. I-80 angles south in the city's West End and eventually enters what Lincoln Loud couldn't help but think of as The Wastelands. In any direction, you saw nothing but grass, sky, and sun...and _maybe_ the occasional power line, farmhouse, or micro-town. At 3pm on a Monday afternoon, traffic was light, consisting mainly of tractor trailers.

"This place is worse than Iowa," Luan said.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. He was gazing out the window at the dry, brown grass stretching away from the highway's northern shoulder. "Not much to look at."

"You can always look at me," she said and smiled prettily.

Lincoln grinned. "Like I said, not much to look at."

Her mouth dropped into a perfect O of surprise, then she slapped his arm. "Jerk." He laughed and rubbed the stinging wound.

"Imagine what it was like back in the old days when you had to ride a horse," he said. "It'd take you, like, a week pass through."

"I'd go crazy," Luan said. "Especially back then? It was probably emptier than it is now."

Lincoln turned to look at her, but something caught his eye in the rearview mirror: A forest green Jeep Grand Cherokee two car-lengths behind. It wouldn't have stood out to him normally, but he'd seen it several times since Des Moines, always in roughly the same spot and maintaining roughly the same speed, never passing, never falling back, though sometimes a car or motorcycle got in-between them. He didn't think much of it before because, hey, it's the interstate, it happens, but looking at it now, the sun glinting off its steely front bumper, a chill passed through him. It was currently in the passing lane but making no move to pass.

He looked away and focused on the highway ahead, drawing a deep breath and damning himself as paranoid. The asphalt was clear and open for at least a half mile: In the hazy distance, a Mac truck ambled along. _It's the interstate, Linc. People follow you. You just have a guilty conscious. That's all._ He glanced in the mirror again. The Jeep's tires hummed hypnotically along the blacktop, revolution after revolution. Sunlight gleamed on the windshield, and Lincoln squinted, but couldn't see who was inside.

"I'm getting kind of hungry," Luan said and looked at him. "How about you?"

"Eh," he said, "kind of."

"Next town's fifteen miles," she said. "Wonder if they'll have a McDonald's. I could go for some chicken nuggets."

Lincoln looked in the mirror again. The Jeep was still there. Of course it was. Where else would it be, Timbuktu?

"Sounds good," he said, his voice distant.

"You alright?" Luan asked.

He opened his mouth to lie, but told the truth instead, "That Jeep back there's been following us for, like, four hundred miles." He glanced in the mirror again. "I don't like it."

Luan glanced up into the mirror. A green Jeep appeared in trembling rectangular glass. She could make out the dark silhouette of someone behind the wheel. "It's the..." she started, but Lincoln cut her off.

"I know, it's the interstate, Linc, and people follow you, but...I don't know, I have a bad feeling about it."

Luan studied the Jeep. It was an older model, so it couldn't have been a police car. If a cop had been following them _that_ long (across state lines), it would be a fed. Feds don't drive thirty year old Jeep Grand Cherokees.

"You're being paranoid," she said.

"Maybe," he muttered. He glanced in the mirror again. A cloud of dread was forming in his stomach.

Luan looked at him and shook her head. Lincoln had a bad habit of worrying. She turned her eyes back to the highway and raised the radio volume. DNCE was striking up "Cake by the Ocean" and she grinned. "Oh, I like this song." She turned it up louder and bobbed her head along. Lincoln looked nervously in the mirror.

* * *

Wayne DiRosario had been behind the killers all day, trying to work up the courage to strike. He could feel his mother's dark presence...could feel her reading his mind; his brain tingled as if massaged by nimble phantom fingers, and it made him wince. He shoved a handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth and leaned over the wheel. He was in the next lane over, and he could just make out Lincoln Loud's face in the rearview mirror. _I'm fucking your mother, Wayne_.

"Who hasn't?"

His mother was a whore. And not just a whore, but a whore-whore. She laid in bed all day and hiked her dress up so neighbors could screw her for money. Wayne saw it. He saw it again and again and again, her fat stomach and thighs hanging out, her face red and her hair matted with sweat. She didn't even make them wear condoms, and when they were done, she'd lay there with her rotten sex bared to the world, smoking cigarettes, shooting heroin, and reading trashy paperbacks. Wayne learned early on never to go into her room unless he wanted to see his mother doing her best beached whale impression, and he never did, because she disgusted him.

Hot hatred welled within him as he remembered all the yelling, all the hitting, all the nights he laid awake in bed and listened to her headboard slap the wall between their rooms, all the times he found her in a heap on the floor with needles sticking out of her arms. He gripped the wheel and bared his teeth.

In the mirror, Lincoln Loud was laughing at him, his mouth and eyes wide. _We're fucking and doing drugs and killing people and you can't stop us! You're a failure! You're a faggot! Fuck you!_

Wayne was shaking now.

 _Fuck you! Fuck you!_

"Fuck _you!"_ Wayne roared, and punched the gas.

* * *

Lincoln glanced into the mirror again. The Jeep was still there. Same bat-spot, same bat-speed. He was beginning to turn away when it swung violently into their lane and accelerated with a loud _vrrrrooom_. His heart jumped into his chest. "Luan!"

Luan looked into the rearview just as the Jeep slammed into them, knocking them forward. Luan screamed and jerked the wheel as they began to fishtail. Lincoln grabbed onto the handhold above the door and held on as Luan regained control. The Jeep was inches behind them. It surged forward again, and Vanzilla shuddered at the impact.

"What the fuck?" Luan screamed, her voice muffled by the music ( _I keep on hopin' we'll eat cake by the ocean..._ ). The Jeep fell back, then rushed forward again, hitting them a third time. Luan clamped her hands on the wheel. She glanced over her shoulder, a frightened look on her face. She hit the gas, and the van shot forward. Lincoln looked in the mirror, and saw the Jeep flying at them, its bumper dented. Before hitting them, however, it swerved back into the passing lane and raced alongside them. Lincoln looked down, and his heart stopped when he saw the man from the restaurant looking at him, his dry, olive skin tight against his skull and his big yellow teeth bared. He jerked the wheel, and the Jeep's front end smacked into Vanzilla's side.

"What the fuck is he doing?" Luan screamed, terror in her voice.

"I don't know!" Lincoln howled, his throat tight with fear. The man jerked the wheel again, but Luan did likewise; they avoided another impact, but the front tires slid, and she had to fight to keep them from crashing.

"Do something!" she cried hysterically.

He looked around, and his eyes fell on the glovebox. He shot forward and opened it with trembling hands. The gun was sitting on top of a jumble of papers and fast food napkins. He sat back and held it up.

A fevered smile spread across the man's sunken face. He reached into his coat and brought out a gun of his own. Lincoln' heart stopped.

That's when Luan hit the brakes, and they came to a shuddering stop, Lincoln slamming against his seatbelt, the gun flying from his hand and striking the dashboard. The Jeep streaked along for a minute before coming to its own stop, its taillights blinking red.

 _You're a real-life fantasy, you're a real-life fantasy but you're moving so carefully; let's start living dangerously..._

Luan was slumped over the wheel and panting, her eyes pooled with animal fear. Lincoln fought to catch his thundering heart. The Jeep just sat there. Time passed. Lincoln grabbed the gun.

"What's he doing?" Luan asked.

"I-I don't know."

A car passed in the next lane and then merged into theirs to pass the Jeep. As soon as it was clear, the Jeep rolled forward then started to turn, its back tires crunching gravel and its nose pointing toward the northbound lane.

"Go!" Lincoln said.

Luan punched the gas, and they zoomed by just as its nose swung into the wrong direction. Lincoln looked back and saw it beginning to turn after them.

He caught sight of Luan's drawn, pale face, her lips trembling and her eyes shiny with primal terror. "We need to get off the highway," he said. "Get help."

She swallowed. Lincoln looked in the mirror. The Jeep was rocketing after them, getting closer and closer.

"Brakes!"

She hit the brakes, and the Jeep shot past them again. Lincoln turned to tell Luan to go, but stopped when he saw her teeth gritting. She slammed the gas, and the van jumped forward. The Jeep came to a stop, and Lincoln held on as they plowed into its rear-end. Metal crunched. The Jeep's back window shattered. "Fucking bastard!" Luan shrieked, throwing the van into reverse, then hitting the gas. They slammed into the Jeep again, and it t shot off of the highway and into the grass, its tires kicking up a cloud of dust. Cars streamed by, honking.

"Go!" Lincoln screamed. He watched the Jeep back up onto the blacktop and point toward them. Maybe Luan's anger was affecting him, but he suddenly felt a rush of dangerous rage. He looked at his lover, her face a mask of worry, her own anger having faded, and his teeth gritted. He didn't like seeing the woman he loved scared, he didn't like seeing the mother of his future children in danger.

They were flying down the highway at eighty miles per hour now. The Jeep was a blip in the distance, but was gaining fast, hurtling forward like a bullet. "Is he back there?" Luan asked.

"Yes," Lincoln said.

"Shit."

* * *

Wayne DiRosario jerked the wheel to the left and hit the gas. He pulled alongside the van's right flank. Craning his neck, he could see her behind the wheel: She threw a terrified glance at him. "That's right, bitch!" he screamed. He jerked the wheel again, this time to the right, but Mother was anticipating it, and did likewise: The van went off the road and zipped along the gravel shoulder, its rear end shuddering. Wayne let up on the gas and allowed them to get ahead.

 _You can't get us! You can't get us! Failure! Loser! Faggot!_

He bore down on the gas pedal, changed lanes, and crashed into the back of the van again. It pulled ahead, and his bumper came with it. For a moment in was locked with theirs, then it fell off and was sucked under his tires.

Wayne screamed maniacal laughter and punched the ceiling. "How's that for faggot, you fat whore?" He punched the ceiling again and again. He was absolutely _crackling_ with energy. He hadn't felt this _alive_ in years. He turned up the radio, and music boomed from the speakers:

 _Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress,  
Devil with the blue dress on_

Wasn't Mother wearing blue today?

Another sign. He was going to win!

The van was pulling ahead. He leaned over the wheel and pushed the pedal to the floor. Before he could bump them, they swung into the other lane. He kept his foot on the pedal and came up beside Lincoln. Wayne looked up at him, and their eyes locked.

"Fuck you!" Wayne yelled and pressed his middle finger to the glass. He threw the wheel to the left, but Mother evaded, shooting across the grass median between lanes, sailing across the eastbound lane (narrowly missing a collision with a white car), and hitting the shoulder. The van tipped, and for a glorious moment, Wayne thought it was going to roll, but instead it swayed back and planted its feet firmly on the pavement. It swung around and came back into the westbound lane.

Wayne laughed. He was having so much fun...

* * *

Lincoln looked in the mirror. The Jeep entered their lane and zoomed forward again, but Luan was able to outpace it.

Ahead, Lincoln spotted a service road leading away from the interstate and filtering into a parking lot before an A-shaped building with a glass front. People milled around out front; a man talking to another, a woman holding dog on a leash. REST AREA the sign said.

"There!" he cried, pointing.

Luan glanced out the window then up to the mirror. The Jeep was getting closer. If they stayed on the highway, it would eventually make them crash. If they parked...

The entrance was coming up quick. Baring her teeth, she spun the wheel, and the van entered the rest stop doing seventy. She stomped the brakes, and the tires squealed against the pavement. Everyone looked toward them.

"Run!" she said, throwing her door open.

"Fuck that," Lincoln said, "I'm gonna shoot this motherfucker."

"Lincoln!"

The Jeep exited the highway and came to a screeching stop. Lincoln jumped out of the van and darted to the back bumper just as the man got out of the Jeep. Lincoln saw a head and shoulders dropping behind the front end and resting something long and black on the hood. He realized what it was and started to drop just as the man opened fire: Bullets struck the back of the van with metallic _pinging_ sounds. The rear window exploded in a shower of glass.

Lincoln hit the pavement as a dozen screams filled the day. Luan? Where was Luan?! He crawled backwards, and saw her on the other side of the van, pressed flat against the ground. "Get under the van!" he yelled, and she looked at him, her eyes wide. "Now!"

She nodded, and squirmed under.

The gunfire continued in bursts of three. _Tat-tat-tat...tat-tat-tat_. Using the back of the van as cover, Lincoln knelt and flicked the gun's safety off. When the firing stopped, he popped out, brought the gun around, and fired three times: The first round struck the Jeep's front tire, popping it, and the man's head disappeared behind the front end. The second went wild. The third smashed into the Jeep's passenger window, and it shattered. He spotted the man coming around the front of the Jeep at a crouch, swung, and pulled the trigger. The round struck the bumper, and the man went down; Lincoln doubted he'd been hit.

As if to confirm his doubts, the man popped up like a jack-in-the-box and aimed the rifle. Lincoln ducked behind the rear tire: _Tat-tat-tat...tat-tat-tat._

Thinking fast, he rolled under the van, brushing against Luan. She was lying on her stomach, her hands laced over her head and her body shaking. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she sobbed.

Lincoln's rage grew. Crawling on his stomach, he reached the back end. The man, emboldened, was standing by the front of the Jeep, the rifle pressed into the crook of his shoulder, seemingly firing at random, lost in the simple act of terrorism that he'd forgotten he had a target.

Heart racing, Lincoln brought the gun up, aimed, and fired: The world slowed, and Lincoln saw, actually _saw_ , the round crash into the man's stomach. He fell back a step and collided with the Jeep's front end. Baring his teeth, Lincoln fired again, this round hitting the gunman in the chest. He flew back against the hood, the rifle fell from his hands, and slid down the side of the Jeep until he sat in a heap against the right front tire. Lincoln crawled out, blood slamming in his temples. Cautiously, the gun in front of him, he approached. The man's chest rose and fell; his shirt and suit coat were drenched with blood. Blood also pooled on the pavement.

Lincoln was on top of him now. The man's head flopped back, and his eyes squinted. "Fuck you," he said, and reached into his coat.

Lincoln pulled the trigger, and a red hole appeared in the middle of the man's forehead: His eyes went wide, and he slumped over, dead.

People were screaming. He glanced over his shoulder and saw someone lying in a pool of blood on the sidewalk bordering the parking lot. Other people were crouched behind trees, big metal trash cans, and along the side of the building.

Cold swept through Lincoln, and his felt his knees giving away, but he caught himself; his heart was throbbing and he could barely breathe. He turned to the man to make sure that he was dead, and something caught his eye: A folded piece of paper was sticking out of his breast pocket. Lincoln knelt, reached out, and took it in his hands. He opened it, and read it with widening eyes.

"What?" Luan asked. She was standing over him, her right arm straight, the elbow cupped in her left hand. The wind tossed her hair around her wan face, partially obscuring her shell-shocked eyes.

Without a word, he handed it to her, and she read, her jaw dropping.

It was a check for a thousand dollars.

Signed by Lynn Loud Sr.

For "services."

"A hitman?" Luan asked, her spirit withering and tears flooding her eyes. "He sent a hitman?"

Lincoln nodded. All of the anger was gone, replaced by great sadness. He hugged himself.

In the distance, sirens rose, and he looked up at his sister. She pressed the flat of her palm against one eye and cried.

"Come on," he said, getting up and taking her in his arms. "We have to go."

"D-Dad tried to kill us!"

"Fuck him," Lincoln said, "it's you and me now." He forced a smile. "That's all we need."

Luan swallowed hard and nodded, then threw her arms around him. "I love you, Lincoln."

"I love you, too." He ran his fingers through her hair and looked into her tearful eyes. "Now come on..."

She nodded and kissed the corner of his mouth.

They climbed into the van and sped off just as the first Nebraska State Police cruiser arrived on the scene...


	10. The American Dream

Rita and Lynn Loud Sr. were watching TV in bed Monday night, neither looking forward to the long struggle for sleep. Since Lincoln and Luan left, they were lucky if they'd gotten five hours between them. Had it really only been _two_ days? Rita wondered as the Channel 5 news came on. It felt like it had been years. She was so sick with worry that she could barely function.

Well...worry _and_ regret.

In the hours and days since her son and daughter ran away, she had prayed a thousand prayers, and cried a thousand tears. _Please, God, let them come back..._

On TV, two anchors read the day's news with an officious calm. A twister here, a flood there, election coverage. Ten minutes in, the camera zoomed in on the female half of the duo (wasn't it _always_ a man and a woman?). "A shooting at a Nebraska rest area this afternoon has left three people, including one of the gunmen, dead."

Video rolled of a parking lot, crime scene tape fluttering in the wind. A green Jeep Grand Cherokee, its driver door standing open, was parked across the foot of a service road connecting the interstate to the rest area. Police officers walked back and forth.

The camera cut back to the anchor. "State police officials say a gun battle erupted shortly after three this afternoon following an apparent road rage incident in which one vehicle tried to run another off the road. The occupants of the two vehicles pulled into the rest stop and exchanged gunfire. Police say one of those killed was 57-year-old Wayne Vincent DiRosario, a former Detroit police detective and alleged gunman with a long history of paranoid schizophrenia."

When a black-and-white photo of Wayne DiRosario appeared on screen, Lynn Sr.'s stomach dropped. "Jesus Christ!"

"What?" Rita asked.

"That's him! The private investigator!"

"Police are still looking for the occupants of the other vehicle, a green and white van with Michigan tags." She read the license plate number, and Rita's heart blasted. Next to her, Lynn's face drained of color.

All the pain, all the fear, all the regret and sorrow was like Coca-Cola in her soul. The news of the shootout was a single Mentos candy. She whipped her head around, her emotions boiling over: _"That's_ who you sent after our children? A crazy-person?"

Lynn gaped at the TV.

"You stupid bastard! What if that son of a bitch hurt one of them?" Her anger suddenly turned to tears, and she wept as she thought of Lincoln or Luan (or both!) somewhere on the road, hurt and bleeding.

Lynn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, his heart aching. _What have I done?_

When Rita had herself under control, he picked up the phone and called the police, already knowing that the bullets they took from Wayne DiRosario would match his gun.

He didn't give a shit about that though. Were his kids okay?

Not knowing made him sick, and when he was done on the phone, he went into the bathroom and threw up.

* * *

They found the van abandoned on the side of I-76 east of Sterling, Colorado the next afternoon. Its back window was shattered and bullet holes pockmarked the rear paneling. Lincoln and Luan were _not_ found; the police hypothesized that they heard a radio report about the manhunt and decided to ditch it. A Ford pick-up truck disappeared from a nearby farm that same night, and the going theory was that they stole it. A town cop in Green River, Utah with nothing better to do during a long graveyard shift but run plate numbers in the parking lots of local hotels found the truck...or rather its plates, which had been switched with those of an Altima. The owners of the Altima had never heard of Lincoln and Luan Loud.

News coverage ensured that by the middle of June, many people had; Lynn and Rita went on TV and begged them to come home; stories ran in national papers. Bigger and more glamorous things came quickly along, however, and they dropped out of the news cycle before the end of the month. Did Lincoln and Luan see any of this? Did they know? No one's sure.

Sightings were reported for months afterwards. They were seen in New York, Georgia, Virginia, Tennessee, Texas, Oregon, and Alberta, Canada. One tipster said they saw them in San Francisco on July 6th. They were sitting outside an ice cream parlor and enjoying double-dipped cones (topped with sprinkles). Probably just another false alarm. There were so _many_.

So, so many.

* * *

Leni left for Chicago on August 8th, two days after Lori returned to Boston. Leaving her family was sad, but mom was right, she had to see this through so she could have a good career. Just one more year, she told herself as the plane to Chicago took off. One year and she could come home and be with her family. Until then, the special memories she made with her sisters over the summer would have to suffice.

Luckily, there were _lots_ of them.

* * *

"You up for round 2?" Amber asked. She, Clyde, and Lynn were walking through the park and enjoying the day. The previous week, Lynn and Amber tagged along with Clyde and his buddies on their monthly paintball excursion: They made camp in the woods and then stalked each other for two days straight. It was _awesome_. Lynn was actually impressed by how good Clyde was...he came up behind you quieter than Lucy.

"Sure," Clyde said. "No condoms, right?"

Lynn and Amber looked at each other.

"Nope," Amber said.

"Condoms are overrated," Lynn said, then punched Clyde's arm. "Just don't get one of us pregnant."

"Don't worry, baby," he said with a grin, "I'll pull out. I promise."

Lynn laughed. "How many times has someone said that only to _not_ pull out?"

He pulled out, and Lynn was actually kind of disappointed. His warm, fleshy, throbbing dick felt good...she could only imagine how good it would feel if he actually _finished_ in her.

But while she liked the feeling of dick in her, she liked the feeling of her girlfriend's lips on her even more.

And so did Amber.

* * *

Lincoln and Luan held hands on a bluff overlooking the crashing surf, the sun gradually sinking into the Pacific before them, its blazing light spreading across the horizon. The warm, salty sea breeze blew over them, Luan's long hair and white dress fluttering.

"It's beautiful," she sighed.

"Not as beautiful as you," Lincoln said, giving her a coy sidelong glance.

"And you're corny." She leaned in and they kissed, their tongues meeting and – yep – still sparking. "But I love you with all my heart, Lincoln."

"And I love _you_ , Luan." He gazed into her eyes, and she touched his face.

The future for them was not sure, and it would certainly be fraught with hardships, but as long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.

Because love, as they say, conquers all.


End file.
